Gypsy Child
by Sarcasma
Summary: Imogen Dahl has lived with the Potter family for just over two years now. She is dating their son James, and Lily is as much a sister as any she could have ever imagined. But when visions of her mother become a regular occurrence, Imogen feels torn between a family she loves and a past she longs to know.
1. The Song

_**A/N:**_ This is a sequel to another story called _Ginny Potter and Hell's Portal,_ following an OC named Imogen Dahl and James Potter. I am writing with the realization that not everyone wants to read more than one fanfic story. There shouldn't be any reason you have to read the first one, but if you would like it you can find it under my profile.

Reviews are always appreciated, encouraged, and (if you do it while logged in) responded to! Thanks all!

 _ **The Song**_

 _In the meadow  
In the meadow  
Just before the sun will rise_

Imogen closed her eyes, letting long, thin fingers run through her hair. Her mother's sweet voice was like a soft flute and the song felt familiar, but she wasn't sure why.

 _Meet me there  
And find a rainbow  
Then you always will be mine_

When she looked up, she saw the sheets of white-blonde hair, so like her own, had been pulled over her mother's right shoulder. Her golden brown eyes were half closed as she smiled and sang.

 _Down the stream,  
And through the hollow  
There you'll see—_

"Imogen."

— _lad_

"Imogen, the feast is starting soon."

Imogen kept trying to listen, but the voice faded, the feel of fingers lessened, and the beautiful face was gone. She opened her eyes and Lily stood over her, red hair hanging haphazardly as she waved her hand inches from Imogen's face. "Oh good," she said as Imogen pushed her hand away. "I thought maybe O.W.L.s had finally done you in. Mum and Dad would have been devastated. You're their favorite, you know."

This wasn't true. Imogen knew she was just the one teenager in the house that never really argued when asked to do something.

"It was so nice out today, I just wanted to sit in the grass for a while," Imogen said, rubbing her eyes. "I guess I fell asleep."

"Guess so," said Lily with a grin.

Imogen had lived with the Potter family for just over two years now. She was used to Lily's teasing grin the same way she was used to Albus's obsession with beating his Uncle Ron at chess, and Ginny's tendency to get a short fuse when writing about the Holyhead Harpies after they lost.

"Well, come on," Lily said. "James is probably wondering where you are."

When they arrived at the Great Hall, James was standing at the entrance. He reached out, grabbed Imogen's hands, and pulled her in for a kiss. "You gonna sit with me?"

Imogen had been sorted into Ravenclaw, which meant splitting meal times between James (who she had dated for as long as she had been with the Potters, and was a Gryffindor) and her own house. Today, the hall was decked out with red and gold, though. She couldn't imagine that the Gryffindors would want her butting into their celebration of winning the house cup. Ravenclaw had it the past two years and Slytherin the year before, making this the first time in four years that Gryffindor won. Already, Lily had run in, standing on the bench of the Gryffindor table between two of her friends. One of them flicked her wand, starting loud, upbeat music, and the three of them danced what looked liked a choreographed number to the applause and catcalls of those around them. Albus looked completely embarrassed by his sister.

"I told Lorcan to save me a seat," Imogen said.

James let out a breath, tilting his head. "Come on, we're going to see them next week."

"And I'm going home with you," she countered. She went up on tiptoes, kissing him.

"Fine, but I call dibs on having you with me on the train." It was a moot point, as they could all fit into a compartment just fine.

They entered the Great Hall, James holding on to her hand as long as possible as they separated. He started doing a champion's run when he got to the Gryffindor table, giving high fives and fist bumps to all his friends from his house as he went down the row.

Imogen couldn't help but laugh as Lily pointed straight at her before doing a cartoonish shimmy, her vivid hair bouncing around her. Imogen sunk into the seat beside Lorcan Scamander.

Lorcan was Imogen's best friend. When the Potters took her in, Imogen was fourteen and had never attended wizarding school. Because of this she was placed with the third year Ravenclaws, despite her age, in hopes that she would have time to catch up by O.W.L.s. Though Ginny had taught her quite a bit, she was still painfully behind when she arrived and wondered if catching up was even possible. Their head of house, Professor Sinistra, assigned the prefects at the time to help tutor her, but it was Lorcan who helped the most. Patient and smart, he was easier to approach with questions. It helped that they were in the same classes as well. She'd become good friends with him before James realized and told her that Lorcan's mother, Luna, was a close friend to his parents, Ginny and Harry. This year, Lorcan and Imogen were assigned as prefects, giving them even more time to spend with one another.

"Why don't you just ask her out?" Imogen asked quietly as Lorcan watched Lily.

"I heard she just broke things off with Bryant," Lorcan replied, looking away as the Professors all entered the Great Hall, ending the dance party at the Gryffindor table. "I don't want to be her rebound."

There was always some excuse: Lily fancied someone else, Lorcan was too busy studying for O.W.L.s, it was bad timing with summer coming up, and so on. Lorcan had liked Lily for as long as Imogen had known him—apparently longer, as they had grown up together. The problem was he talked himself out of even the simplest conversation with her. It didn't seem to matter that Imogen had offered a hundred times to talk to Lily for him, the most he'd ever done was talk about some future date he would work up the courage and do it himself.

"Maybe when you're visiting The Borrow next week," Lorcan mused.

It wasn't as though he weren't handsome. His twin brother, Lysander, looked very similar to Lorcan. Both had golden brown hair with loose curls, wide and friendly eyes (Lysander's were green and Lorcan's grey), and tall statures. Only Lysander seemed to understand he was handsome, earning the general attention from all the Ravenclaw girls in their year and half of those from other houses. Lorcan, both too humble and too shy, lacked confidence and buried himself in his school work instead of facing the dreaded world of girls.

The end of the year feast went as expected. Professor Morrigan, the headmistress appointed when McGonagall retired the year before, gave her congratulations to Gryffindor, to the graduates, and to the student body in general. They ate copious amounts of food before they were given information regarding departures the next morning and then dismissed for the night.

James weaved through the crowd, finding Imogen in the entryway. "I'll see you in the common room," she told Lorcan as James pulled her away. He brought out his invisibility cloak and threw it over the two them, going up and up until they made it to the Room of Requirement.

When they entered, it was apparent James had made plans. The room was cozy, with pillows and a long, grey couch, and bottles of Firewhisky and Butterbeer, which Imogen knew wasn't a product of the room. Imogen grabbed a Butterbeer and sat on one side of the couch. A fire crackled, though no heat emitted from the grate. Candles were scattered across the edges of the room. Still, there was a homey quality behind the romantic mood James had set. Wooden floors and a stone fireplace reminded Imogen of the cottage James and Ginny lived in when they met Imogen in Australia.

James grabbed a drink himself and sat next to Imogen. He pulled her legs over and onto his lap. "To the end of the year," he said with a grin, lifting his bottle. Imogen tapped hers to his and they both drank. "And then," he continued, "I'll get into the Auror academy and while you're at school next year, I'll find a flat for us."

"I still have two years left," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but you'll be of age at the end of this summer," James calculated.

Imogen was still pretty sure Ginny and Harry wouldn't approve until she graduated. She didn't bring this up, though. Aside from the fact that James didn't care if his parents approved of his plans, he started on a tirade the last time she brought this up. Still, Imogen felt the need to appease the Potters somewhat. Ginny and Harry didn't have to take her in, after all. They had done so much for her. Ginny had written to the previous headmistress, gotten her into school, and they had both taken her in like one of their own. Imogen didn't like the idea of upsetting them.

She reached out her hand and James held his just above hers, about half a foot apart. It was a gesture that had started between them last summer. She wiggled her fingers and little sparks flitted around between their palms. One reason Ginny wrote to the headmistress in the first place was because Imogen showed signs of being a wandless witch. It wasn't something Imogen entirely understood yet, though the old wand seller, Ollivander, and his business partner seemed impressed by it, as did Professor McGonagall, who had given Imogen private lessons in her fourth year to learn to use the skill. Apparently it was rare. So rare that none of the adults she knew had met one before. Some of the Ravenclaw students, including the Scamander twins, figured it out. Generally, though, she didn't use it around other students, not wanting to draw attention to herself. But James knew.

James knew almost everything about her. He knew that she had been born in a compound, where her parents had been kept under the Imperius Curse and used for their magic. He knew that when she was eleven, Imogen had snapped herself and her parents from the curse and saw them die as they tried to escape. She somehow survived and a man by the name of Peter Bennett found her wandering the Australian desert alone—dehydrated, sunburned, but alive. James knew about the group Imogen had been a part of between being found and meeting him. They both participated in the fight to free others at the dreaded compound. He was there to save his dad. She was there on behalf of her parents, who couldn't be.

"How many O.W.L.s do you think you got?" James asked.

The simple question made Imogen's stomach churn. She'd tried very hard not to think about it. James had been doing his N.E.W.T. exams right up to the end, and between both of them studying, there had been very little time together the last few months. She spent most of her time with Lorcan, and this past week had insisted they do nothing but find games to play. Usually exploding snaps. "I don't know," she admitted. "Is it possible to not get any?"

"Apparently my Uncle George only got a few, but even he says he didn't study," James said. "I guess I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Probably not," Imogen admitted.

James leaned in towards her and whispered, "I could take your mind off it."

Imogen hardly knew what was happening as he kissed her. He placed his own drink on the ground with his lips still on hers, then took the Butterbeer from her. Imogen's hands were on his neck so fast they hardly had a moment to feel empty. He was wrapped up around her and Imogen thought of nothing else as she lost herself in his touch, his kiss, and the euphoria of the end of the school year. James's hands moved up and down her sides, pressing Imogen into him. His right hand moved up and over her curves, finding the zipper on her robes and started to pull down as his other hand moved lower. She stiffened and pushed back, pulling away her lips. Both of them were breathless. James's bright brown eyes found hers, looking disheartened. "Not here," she said. He nodded, sitting both of them up.

Leaning against him, Imogen wrapped her arms around his middle and James kissed the top of her head. Imogen was always worried she was disappointing him… letting him down and in moments like this, more so than others. She wondered sometimes what was going to happen next year, when they weren't in the same place and when he wasn't near. Adults sometimes talked about their relationship in terms of how young they were. James didn't care about the comments, but the way they said it… like this must be temporary because of their age. Like they couldn't possibly have found the person they were spending the rest of their lives with. It worried Imogen. She knew what was at Hogwarts, and she didn't think she'd find anyone else she wanted to date, but what about when James was in the academy and meeting new people?

It was one of those things she didn't tell him: that she was afraid he might not be hers one day.

James held his hand out, palm down. She placed hers under his. Wiggling her fingers, she let the sparks flit as James talked and talked about their future. His future.

* * *

"Imogen, can I borrow your blue cardigan?" Lily burst into her room. "The one with the wooden buttons."

A week into the summer holiday and they were already packing again to go to The Borrow for a week long Weasley family reunion.

"I don't know why Mum didn't plan this later in the summer," Ginny said from the living room. She was always most stressed when conducting everyone in packing for trips. Imogen found it best to pack and clean early for this reason.

"Sure," Imogen said, going to her closet and sifting to find it. "What for?"

Lily stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. "My cousin Dominique told me she's meeting up with a muggle bloke from the village near my grandparents' house. Said he has a really cute brother a little older than me. Don't tell my mum, though."

"I would never," Imogen replied. She was tempted to ask if Lily wanted to visit Lorcan with her while they were there, but in the past Lorcan insisted he would die if she did that. "So what happened with Bryant anyway?"

Lily sat on Imogen's bed, giving her a play-by-play of the decisions that lead up to the breakup. "It was mostly mutual," Lily said. "I mean, I think he knew it was coming."

"James never really liked him," Imogen said.

Lily scoffed. "He never likes anyone I date. Thank Merlin he won't be at Hogwarts next year."

Imogen found it ironic, considering the disapproval James faced when dating her in Australia. There was one man named Fritz in their group who had quickly become something between a father figure and older brother to Imogen. He had no patience with James, though by the end he seemed to be softening. Having died in their actions at the compound, Imogen could only imagine what he might think now.

"Did you have someone else you fancy, then?"

"No," Lily said, contemplating. "I'm kinda over the whole thing. I think I'll just spend time with friends next year."

Imogen had heard Lily say this before. Her first date was to Hogsmeade in the middle of the prior year and it seemed that she had a new boyfriend every couple months since. The longest was when she dated Graham Novak from Slytherin for four months, but he had screwed things up when Lily caught him snogging Constance Stokes after Gryffindor beat Slytherin in a match this past November.

"You should bring that sun dress," Lily said, standing up. "It's cute."

By early afternoon, everyone was ready and they took the floo network into The Burrow. Grandma Weasley pulled Imogen from the grate and into a rib-crushing hug. "Hello, dear," she said. "How were your exams?"

"Good," Imogen said, but this was all she got in as Lily came behind her, receiving the same greeting. One after another, each Potter came through. James entered through the kitchen, apparating on his own rather than follow his family. He was talking with Fleur, Dominique, and Louis coming into the living room behind them.

The room was getting rather cramped, but Fleur still noticed Imogen. " _Ma bichette!"_ she declared, pulling Imogen into a hug, then holding her at arm's length. Of all the extended family, Fleur was always the most doting towards Imogen. Fleur often looked at Imogen and declared she had always wanted four children, rather than three. "Your 'air! Ve must fix zis braid," she said, turning Imogen around and untying her hair, which had been done by Ginny that morning. Ginny, who was giving Bill a kiss on the cheek gave a strained look their direction and Imogen looked guiltily away.

She knew it bothered Ginny when Fleur did this, but Imogen couldn't help but love the affection. Imogen also knew she was prettier under Fleur's care. The simple difference, even in a braid, was like trading out an opal for a diamond, but it wasn't just the vanity that appealed to Imogen. In the deepest part of her, the part she didn't share with James, she liked being fawned over by someone who looked like her. Maybe not exactly, but the white-blonde hair and thin round face reminded her somewhat of the image that occasionally visited her dreams—the image Imogen remembered of her mother. "Zere," Fleur said. "Zat is better." She kissed Imogen's cheeks, then flitted around to Lily and Albus, asking about how they were.

"Hello, stranger," someone said right behind her.

Imogen turned and smiled wide. "Hi, Charlie," she said. Imogen had met and gotten to know Charlie in Australia, the same way she had with Ginny and then James. She leaned into his big, open arms for a hug.

"How are you?"

"I'm good," Imogen said as he released her. "How's Taylor doing?"

They talked for the next twenty minutes, Charlie giving updates on almost everyone they had known in Australia. Taylor worked with him at a dragon sanctuary in Romania, studying and training the animals. Trenton and Miles opened a shop in October in Duwick (the small wizarding village they lived in), Eben was living in Scotland and was now engaged, and Dakota was close to finishing a program that would allow her to move onto a healing school. Hearing about Dakota gave Imogen a pang of guilt. She hadn't written to her since September, and Dakota had been one of those she was closest to. She'd have to remember to write an owl soon.

"I went out for drinks with Hagrid the other day," Charlie said. "He was telling me about all you students, but he said you'd done very well in his class."

She blushed. "He may have been being nice," she said, remembering how ill she'd felt leaving that exam.

"Still, I hope you remember I'm happy to help if you do enjoy that sort of thing," Charlie said.

"Uncle Charlie!" James interrupted before Imogen had to figure out what to say to his offer. "How's Romania?"

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed in various conversations, though the crowd soon moved to the garden. Albus pulled out a deck of animal feature cards from George's shop. All the cousins gathered around and drew cards that gave them ears, noses, and faces of a variety of beasts. It wasn't long before they looked like they were part of some experimental zoo. As the stars blinked in the sky, Grandma Weasley directed everyone. Rooms had been added to The Burrow as the family grew, but there still weren't enough rooms inside for everyone. Instead, the adults were all to sleep in the house and two large tents were erected in the back field. "Girls in the bigger one," Grandma Weasley said. "And little Fred's staying with you this year, so no gags." She was looking at James in particular, though he had exchanged a look with Louis at this.

There was chaos and a flurry of goodnights and instruction issued by parents.

"Sleep tight," Ginny said to Imogen, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek.

"You should be able to invite Lorcan and Lysander for some Quidditch tomorrow afternoon," Harry added.

"Thanks," Imogen said. "Night Ginny, night Dad."

It was their first Christmas together that Imogen stopped calling Harry "Mr. Potter" and called him dad instead. When it spilled from her lips at the dinner table for the first time, she was asking for him to pass some dish or another. She felt heat rise to her cheeks. It was Harry's reaction, or more accurately his lack of one, that caused her to continue using the term. He passed whatever it was, turned back to Lily, following up with a question that continued their conversation.

She hadn't done the same with Ginny yet, though she supposed it would happen one day. It just didn't feel the same, even though they had been through so much more together. Ginny, also, was the one she'd confide a lot in, but for some reason, mum just didn't fall off her tongue the same way.

They were nearly back to the tent when Imogen noticed Lily and Dominique watching the crowd of adults still congregated around the table. "I bet they'll head in soon," Lily said.

The pair of them invited Imogen to join them, but she declined. She was rather tired. She had just changed when James came into the girls' tent, finding Imogen's individual room, with a small cot and not much besides. "Hey," he said.

"What are you doing in here?"

He stepped into her cubicle of a space, closing the flaps of canvas behind him. "I just didn't get to spend enough time with you tonight," he said. He held her face in his hands, leaning over and kissing her cheek, then her nose, then an eyelid.

"James," Imogen said, feeling every nerve tingle pleasantly. "James, I'm tired."

He swayed with her, his hands having lowered to her neck. She held onto his wrists. "Then let's go to sleep," he whispered.

"We'll get into trouble."

"We're not actually doing anything. Just sleeping." He leaned his forehead against hers. "I'll be a perfect gentleman, promise."

"But your mum… and Grandma Weasley… If they came in..."

James let out a huff. "All right," he said, kissing the tip of her nose again.

He let go and turned to leave. Imogen grabbed his hand and pulled him back around, kissing him deeply on the lips. "I love you," she whispered and he smile.

"I love you, too."

* * *

 _Down the stream  
And through the hollow  
There you'll see my favorite lad_

Imogen struggled somewhere in the middle of being asleep and awake. She could hear her mother, but was very much aware she was in the cot, in the tent, at The Burrow. As the words faded, she heard the flutey voice in a sort of hum. She turned, trying to bury her face into her pillow, but it didn't help. Giving up, Imogen turned flat on her back, looking up at the canvas roof. She expected the voice to disappear but it didn't. She propped herself up on her elbows. The voice was behind her, on the other side of the tent, but it was moving away.

Jumping from bed, Imogen pulled everything from her bag. She threw on a jumper and sandals, trying not to wake anyone else on her way out. Outside, the grass was wet with dew and the sky was a murky yellow, barely touched by the sun. Imogen searched the field. A hundred yards away, there was a thin, lithe figured, dressed in green with bright hair flowing down her back. Imogen's heart raced as she ran. The sound of the song echoed in the breeze and Imogen couldn't go fast enough. She ditched her sandals in the field, as they kept getting caught in the untamed ground surrounding the lawn.

"Wait!" Imogen shouted as she made it to the wooded area. She stopped, straining her ears for the music. It was light at first, but grew as she listened.

 _In the meadow  
In the meadow  
Just before the sun will rise_

Imogen moved towards it again, picking up speed as it grew louder. Again, the words disappeared into a hum of melody. She arrived in a clearing, hearing the song more loudly than before, but the woman had disappeared and there was nothing but a floating ball of light, emitting a green glow in the middle of the space. She looked all around, wondering if the woman—her mother, she was sure—was hiding within the layers of trees. Walking towards the light, Imogen noticed the song was coming from whatever this was. No person, just this remnant. Carefully, she reached out. As she touched the edge of the light, it shot back and forth across the clearing and then upward, disappearing into the pre-dawn sky.

Imogen shook herself. She had to be dreaming. But the more she tried to wake herself, the more she realized she already was awake. Walking back to The Burrow, Imogen felt the thorns and twigs beneath her feet in a way she hadn't in the rush to find the voice. She looked for her sandals in the tall grass, finding the right one stuck in small pocket of mud.

"Where were you?" James asked as she got closer to the tents. He was standing outside, stretching awake.

"Lorcan told me his mum said there's some sort of Glittering Myrmidons in the woods around here," Imogen said. "But you can only see them at sunrise."

James laughed. "Well, you can't believe everything Luna says."


	2. Burrowed

_**Burrowed**_

They had been at The Burrow for six days. Grandma Weasley generally had activities planned all morning and the afternoons were spent at the swimming hole or playing Quidditch at the clearing a half mile from the house. Lorcan and Lysander often came for the afternoons, and Luna and Rolf followed along for dinners. Even now, Imogen sat beside Lorcan, watching the game in progress from the ground. James, Lily, Louis, and Rose were playing against Dominique, Lysander, Hugo, and Albus.

James landed between plays. "Come on Imogen, you should take a turn," he said.

"That's all right. I like watching you play."

"Come on, James, you're holding us up," Lily shouted at him. Lorcan leaned in and whispered something to Imogen as James pushed back off, joining the game again.

He still found himself distracted over and over as he looked down. Their hands were so close. James knew it was stupid. They were friends. Of course Imogen had friends in Ravenclaw that he didn't spend time with. He liked the Scamander twins just fine, for the most part, but Imogen spent so much time with Lorcan. Especially this past year, when the two had even started the train ride working together as prefects. And next year he wouldn't even be around. Would Imogen spend all her time with Lorcan then? Maybe Lily would still drag Imogen over to the Gryffindor table once in a while.

Imogen cheered as James shot a quaffle through the single makeshift hoop at one end of the pitch. He grinned down at her, winking. Lysander made a mad dash for the quaffle, crashing into the thin, bamboo-like pole that held up the basket ring, snapping it in two.

"Do you have your wand?" Albus asked James.

"I left it in the tent. You?"

"Why do you think I was asking?" Albus pointed out. "Anyone else bring a wand?"

Louis scoffed. "You're the ones who are allowed to do magic whenever."

"Well I guess that's over," Albus said as everyone landed. "Guess we can fix it tomorrow."

"No, wait," Lysander said. "Imogen, can you come fix this?"

"We can't do magic outside of school," Rose said, scandalized by his suggestion.

Imogen and Lorcan walked over to the crowd. "But she can," Lysander said.

"I can what?"

"Do magic without the trace." Imogen looked confused and Lysander rolled his eyes like she should already know this. "They only put the trace on babies because it's got a timestamp to it. But you weren't born here. By the time they could have put it on you, it would've been in place until you were like… in your thirties sometime. They might have done some kind of lesser trace with your wand, but that won't matter for you. We learned about it in Charms, don't you remember?"

"What if we got in trouble, though," Rose asked.

"It's just a pole," Lily said. "It's not like fixing it will collapse a bridge or something."

Imogen seemed to agree, because she pointed her hands towards the hoop, raising the broken portion . " _Reparo_ ," she said, and the pole came back together again.

"Thanks," James said, kissing her cheek.

It was another quarter hour before Lily found the snitch. It wasn't really a snitch, of course. It was some large nut that Grandpa Weasley hid in the branches of a treetop on his way to an emergency call for work. They had disintegrated into simply tossing the Quaffle about—teams forgotten—when a rabbit patronus bounced in their midst. "Time to wash up for dinner," it instructed, then disappeared.

"I guess Mum's here," Lysander said.

"Imogen, why don't you ride back with me," James suggested, diving down next to her.

"Okay," Imogen said. "Lily, could Lorcan share your broom?"

"Yeah! Let's get going," Lily said, landing beside Lorcan. James couldn't help but notice Lorcan scowl at him and Imogen as she climbed behind James, wrapping her arms around him.

Everyone else took a straight shot to The Burrow, but James took his time, looping back around so they were riding over the lake, the sun glinting on its surface. "Where are we going?" Imogen asked.

"I just wanted to take the scenic route," he said, dipping low so they did a lap across the water with their feet skimming the surface. Imogen squealed behind him and he pulled up. They went high above the trees and looked down on the village.

"The muggles are going to see us," Imogen said, worry setting into her tone.

"No they won't," he said. "We're still on the wizard side of the border with the barrier that hides magic. As long as we don't cross that we're fine."

Imogen relaxed into him, dropping her arms lower around his waist and letting out a sigh as she leaned her face against his back. "It's beautiful out here."

James moved an arm to rest on her thigh, rubbing his thumb back and forth. "It's more beautiful with you." He waited in the silence that followed, the question bubbling like an unwanted boil on the surface of his tongue. "What were you and Lorcan talking about?"

Imogen didn't answer for a moment. She didn't move either. "A few things. I was tell him about this... dream I keep having… and we talked about what subjects we hope to take for N.E.W.T.s," she said. "He thinks he might want to do something in the Department of Mysteries."

"Only weirdos become Unspeakables," James said.

Imogen sat back, pulling away from him. "That was rude," she said.

"Well am I wrong if he's telling you Gutteral Marmadukes exist?"

" _Glittering Myrmidons_. And he just said his mum said they were in the woods, he doesn't believe it. Besides, I don't think your mum would like it if she knew you were calling Luna a weirdo either."

"Fine, I'm sorry," James said. "I didn't mean it." He twisted on the broom. Imogen still looked upset. "I'm sorry," he said again. He leaned back and kissed her. She let out an exasperated breath.

"It's all right," she said. "We should probably get back for dinner."

There was a terse silence as they flew back. Right at the end, he made a dive and Imogen tightened her grip, burying her face into his back and laughed. They tumbled with the rough landing behind the tents, both of them sprawled out on the grass. James crawled over to Imogen, who was still laughing, rubbing a spot on the side of her head. She stopped, looking at James. He smiled down at her and placed a hand on either side of Imogen's body. He lifted a hand, picking some grass from her hair, then leaned in and kissed her.

"There you two are," Lily said, having come around the tents. "Could you stop snogging for long enough to eat? They're making us wait for you and the rest of us are starving."

James help Imogen up and they headed over. When they found their seats, Lorcan sat on Imogen's other side and everyone began in earnest. Grandpa Weasley arrived home as everyone else was finishing. "Just a trick hat that wouldn't come off a muggle's head," he said. George laughed. "It's not funny. His wife was all in a dither. One good thing, though, was I ran into Boxley from the Education department and he snuck me this." Grandpa Weasley pulled an envelope from the insides of his robes, handing it across to James. It had _James Sirius Potter_ written across the front.

"What is it?" James asked.

"N.E.W.T. results," he said.

James felt his heart pounding. The parchment between his fingers suddenly felt hot.

"But I thought those aren't distributed until the middle of July," Aunt Hermione said. "That's at least another two weeks away."

"They have them graded in advance," Grandpa Weasley replied as Grandma Weasley brought him a very full plate of food. "Boxley owed me one, so I had him check for James's score to see if it was ready. I asked about O.W.L.s too, but those they wait on."

Everyone was looking at him now. "Well open it," Ginny said. "We want to see."

James looked at Imogen who smiled at him and he took a deep breath. His hand shook as he tore the envelope open and pulled out the paper inside reading it:

Charms E  
Transfigurations E  
Potions O  
Herbology A  
Defense O

His heart sank into his stomach as his mum grabbed the paper, looking before she passed it around. "You did very well on most of those, James," she said.

"But I can't get into the academy with an A," he said. His plans fell apart in that one letter.

"You can retake it next year," Uncle Bill said. "Study on your own and schedule it with the department."

"In the meantime, I think we have an opening for an intern in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement," Aunt Hermione added. "It doesn't pay much, but it could add to your CV that way."

"I've always got a job for you at the shop too, mate," Uncle George offered.

James was looking across the table at his dad, though. He was now holding the paper, looking through the grades with a furrowed brow, adjusting his glasses. "It's certainly not over," Harry said. Compared to everyone else, these words started to make him feel better. "But I don't understand how you would get this grade in Herbology." His dad looked up at him and James felt sick again. "If you were having trouble, why didn't you talk to Neville?"

Heat flooded his face. Several of his aunts and uncles pretended they hadn't heard this as they cleaned up dinner, instructing their kids to different places. Grandma and Grandpa Weasley sat at the end of the table, watching silently.

"Well I think it's time to go," Rolf Scamander said.

"Yes, I'm sure James doesn't want us hearing this," Luna added, turning to Ginny to say goodbye as the twins both took the cue from their parents.

"Well… I didn't think I was having trouble," James said. "The written part was wicked hard."

"You don't need to make excuses for yourself, James. You have a tendency to get distracted by less important things and if you're going to retake the test, you have to buckle down and—"

"What do you know?!" James shouted, pushing back and standing. "You never had to get into the academy! You never even had to take the N.E.W.T.s!"

"James," Imogen said nervously.

"Do not yell at me," Harry said firmly. "Don't think I wouldn't have rather dealt with exams and the academy. And don't assume we didn't have our own learning curve, just because I became an auror under different circumstances. There's a reason for the standards. You need to know these things."

James stepped back, practically throwing his chair into the table. Imogen reached out and grasped his hand, but he jerked it away and walked back towards the grassy field, away from all the eyes looking at him.

* * *

Imogen watched as James stomped away from her.

"Did you really have to do that?" Ginny asked.

"What am I supposed to do? Make a call and get him out of it? How is that good for him?"

"I'm not saying bail him out, but you didn't need to reprimand when it's obvious he's already gutted over it."

They continued to argue as Imogen got up and walked to the gate where Lorcan was waiting to say goodbye. "I can't believe you did that, by the way," Lorcan said. "I was mortified!"

It took Imogen a moment before she realized he meant getting Lily to share her broom with him. Still his version of upset was mild to what was happening at the table behind her. "You had to get back somehow," Imogen said. "Unless you would have rather walked."

"Any of them could have taken me back." He was turning red just talking about it.

"All right, I'm sorry for giving you five minutes alone with Lily," she said with a smirk. "Did you at least talk to her?"

"What do you think?"

Imogen shook her head at him. "Well, maybe next time. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Sure." He turned and ran to catch up with his family, who were already at the top of the hill.

Imogen walked around the house the other way. Ginny was still talking to Harry and she didn't want to know if they were arguing or what they were saying about James. She checked the boys' tent, but James wasn't in there. She came out, scanning the edges of the field. At the far end, James sat on a stack of firewood, throwing something out into the grass. She walked in his direction. Cricket chirps grew as the sky turned an inky blue. When she was closer, Imogen noticed James grab tufts of grass, tearing them apart and throwing them to the wind one shredded piece at a time.

Rather than talk, she sat beside him on the stack of wood and leaned on her knees.

"I can't believe him," James finally said. "Just because we can't all be like him. Life would be easier if I didn't want to be an auror. Doesn't Dad realize how hard it is without him on my case too?"

Imogen hadn't known who Harry Potter was. At the compound, there was a sort of school where they learned to read and write, but even children were used for their magic by the time they were about six without learning much else. Certainly they didn't learn their own history. When she got to Hogwarts it would have been impossible not to learn who Harry was and what he'd done, though. Particularly when people in her house learned that she was living with the Potters. She wondered if Hogwarts was where James learned about all of that as well.

"Everyone expects me to just be able to do shit. That I should be some amazing wizard just 'cause he's my dad," James continued. "I worked _really_ hard."

He stopped, swallowing. Imogen could tell he was trying not to cry. She reached over to grab his hand. "I know you did."

"What if I don't pass next time? What if I get the same grade?" James asked.

"You have a whole year and only one exam, this time," Imogen said. "I bet you didn't miss by much either."

James pulled her into him, wiping his free hand of the grass remnants. "Maybe I'll take Uncle George up on his offer. Then I can live above the shop and get out of my parents' house. I can save up for a flat."

James continued talking through changes in his plans, the possibilities, and the way each would work. Imogen's mind wandered elsewhere, leaning against his chest.

Almost every night that week she'd had dreams with her mother in them. This morning, the light had appeared again. And the song. She kept hearing the lyrics, trying to remember how she knew it. Had her mother sung it to her? She didn't remember her mother singing. Or did she, and the Imperius Curse had blocked out her memories of that until now.

"Imogen?" James was nudging her side. "Did you hear me?"

"Sorry," she said, pulling back. He looked upset. "I was just thinking…"

"Thinking about Lorcan?"

"What? No."

"Right, sorry to bore you," James said, standing.

Imogen felt disoriented. "Stop!" He did, turning back to her. "James, what is this about? Why are you so irritated by Lorcan today?"

"Sorry, I don't take to some other bloke flirting with my girlfriend right in front of me."

"Excuse me?" Imogen couldn't help but laugh a little. "He doesn't flirt with me. Come on, he fancies Lily." She shouldn't have said that. Lorcan would kill her. But it didn't seem to matter as James scoffed at this revelation.

"Don't give me that," James said. "We were all raised together. They're practically like cousins."

"We live like siblings, but you and I are going out."

"That's different. You're not really part of the family."

Like an arrow to her heart, Imogen felt the sting of the words. _Not really part of the family._ No, her family was dead. Her parents. Dead. And this… this wasn't really her family. Not to James, at least.

"Every chance he gets he sits nexts to you. Whispers to you. And you're so distracted you don't even hear when I talk about getting engaged."

The way he spat the words at her built on the hurt from his statement before. She was near tears now, confused why James was taking this out on her. "Well if you're going to act like this, I wouldn't want to be engaged to you anyway." She stood and walked along the side of the property.

"Fine! Why don't you go talk to Lorcan about it!" he shouted at her retreating form.

"Maybe I will!" she retorted. Suddenly she found that was exactly what she wanted to do.

Where they had landed behind The Burrow before dinner, Imogen found James's abandoned broomstick. She never had been great at flying, but she managed as she flew to the Scamander's house over the hill and down the road. Lorcan once pointed out that they lived right next to Luna's father, who had a rickety, spiraling sort of house. It made the Scamander's house easy to find. It was more typical, though the only thing she remembered was that his room was on the back side. There were two windows. Fifty-fifty shot. She could only hope if she got the wrong one that it was Lysander's room, and not their parents'.

Hovering in front of the window on the right, Imogen knocked softly on the glass. She was relieved when Lorcan came to the window, already in a plain, loose shirt and pajama pants, holding a book in his hand. "Imogen?"

"Can we talk?" she asked, her voice thick from crying already.

"Yeah," he said. "We can go in the barn. Get closer, here." Imogen did and he climbed onto the broom behind her. "Actually I should have turned off the light."

Imogen didn't hesitate, but used her hand to reach out with magic and extinguish the lights in his room. They flew into the barn on the back of the property. It had never been used for animals. Not since Lorcan's grandfather had once owned it. Luna was convinced Nargles lived in there, though, so they kept it filled with fresh hay. Lorcan's dad had altered the roof so that on clear nights it could be opened up and they could watch the night sky. Imogen opened it, not in the mood to feel guilty over breaking rules by doing magic right now.

"Now tell me what happened," Lorcan said, sitting on a pile of hay.

Imogen sat next to him and sobbed through the whole explanation. Lorcan just listened and nodded, looking to the sky every now and again as the speckle of stars thickened. "And then he started going on about you flirting with me."

"What?"

"That's what I said!" She stopped herself from mentioning her lapse of judgement and subsequent betrayal concerning telling James about Lorcan's actual crush. "He's delusional!"

"No," Lorcan said. "Well, I mean yes. But I think he was just worked up, right?"

"Yes, but then it became all about how I was distracted when he brought up engagement and… he didn't even let me explain what I was thinking about!"

Lorcan threw an arm around her, pulling her into a hug. "Just let him cool down."

Imogen nodded, crying into Lorcan's shirt. When she was finally calm, taking her last shuddering breaths, Lorcan and her adjusted themselves on the loft floor. He laid out, folding his arms so his hands sat under his head. Imogen used his chest as a pillow, her body perpendicular to his as he pointed out different constellations and she talked about everything she wondered with her mother. With her parents. The questions she would never actually have answers to.

"Do you think they loved me?" Imogen asked after a long pause.

"Of course they loved you," Lorcan said, as though that was obvious.

Imogen flipped onto her stomach, still resting her hands on Lorcan as she looked at him. "But there were others. There were people who snapped out of it, who had been married for ages, but didn't care about each other. We had a couple in our group. I mean, they didn't want them to die and they maybe even liked them okay… but they were only married because the curse made them. What if it's like that? What if they only loved me when they were under the curse?"

Lorcan considered all of this. "Well, maybe your parents weren't in love with each other like that," he admitted. "That's possible. But a parent's love isn't that way, is it? They love you because you're their's." She thought about this in the lull. "Imperius curse is dark magic, though. Wouldn't Harry know the answer to that?"

She flipped onto her back again, looking at the sky. Asking about her parents to those that had taken her in seemed like an ungrateful gesture, like everything they'd done for her wasn't appreciated. Still, the questions plagued her. Imogen liked Lorcan's answer, though. She liked to think that she had belonged to her parents. She liked to think it was so obvious they loved her. She found herself humming the song she'd heard so much over the past week as Lorcan pointed to one constellation after another and they drifted to sleep.

* * *

That night, Imogen dreamed a memory. It was something like watching the moment replay in her mind very exactly. Her mother ushered her forward. Her father grabbed her other hand and they ran. She was eleven and terrified, running in thin soled shoes along the hot desert sand. "Zey don' know yet," her father said, though there was uncertainty mixed with his Slavic accent. Imogen didn't remember him having an accent.

The compound was far behind them. Imogen knew what was coming, but she couldn't look away. "No, stop!" she shouted at him just as her father hit the barrier—a domed curse that covered the compound.

Her mother pulled her younger self back. Imogen was forced to let go of his hand. "Papa!" she yelled, crying. Her mother pushed her backwards and moved forward, pulling on his hand. As soon as she touched the barrier, her mother was caught as well. "Mum! Papa!" her younger self screamed over and over. They were being pulled upward. A green layer of light developed a foot from them, then pressed inward and they dropped, their lifeless bodies denting the soft sand.

Imogen watched herself fall on her father's chest, sobbing, then turned and kissed her mother's forehead, carefully fixing her hair so it picturesquely fanned out. After several minutes she stood, closed her eyes and stepped forward, expecting the same entrapment as her parents. But it didn't come. Instead, she was rimmed in green, and then she was on the other side. Unscathed and alone. She was walking away in the dream when the memory changed. Imogen saw her mother stand back up. "Come back for me," her mother said gently. "Come back, my Imogen."

There was a pounding that she couldn't place. It wasn't the sound the feet on the sand and it wasn't the soft pleading from her mother. She looked around, expecting the scene to change and another memory to replace this one.

" _What is going on_?!"

Imogen was startled awake. Somehow in the course of the night, her and Lorcan had both tossed and turned, shifted and moved until they got here. Lorcan spooned her on top of a soft mattress of hay, his arm across her shoulder, dangling there awkwardly. Now he scrambled backwards, wiping hard at his eyes as Imogen's pounding head made it difficult to digest what was in front of her.

The steps up to the loft were packed with other people, but Ginny was the first one to come in to focus. She stood over the two of them, looking furious. "I-it's nothing," Imogen said, sitting up. When she looked over, James stood on the top step, a look of complete disgust transforming his normally handsome features. Behind him stood Rolf and Luna.

"Nothing?" Ginny yelled. " _This_ is nothing?!"

"Lorcan, go inside now," Rolf said. "Ginny, I'm sorry about this."

"It's not your fault, Rolf," she said, then turned back to Imogen. "You. Burrow. Now!"

Imogen stood, grabbing James's broom. Lorcan gave her an apologetic glance then went down first, the others creating a gauntlet at the bottom as they walked out of the barn, Ginny following right behind Imogen. Lorcan went into the house with his parents as Imogen walked towards the road, flanked by Ginny and James. "So worried! No idea where you were!" Such phrases, coming in spurts, were the only thing to break the horrible silence on the walk back.

When they got back to The Burrow, several people surrounded them. Lily flung herself at Imogen. "Thank Merlin!" she said and Fleur rushed forward, wiping dirt from Imogen's face. They were the only two that seemed happy to see her. There were others that looked relieved, but Harry simply looked to Ginny for an explanation.

"Get packed," she said. "We'll deal with this at home."

Imogen rushed back to the tent, not bothering to change clothes even though she still wore the same thing as yesterday. Still, she took her time in putting everything into her bag. When she had finished, Lily, Albus, and Ginny were waiting at the kitchen door for her. James and Harry were missing, though. Imogen realized they both must have apparated already.

"I'm sorry to leave like this," Ginny said to Grandma Weasley.

"It's okay, dear," she said. "It was so good to see all of you," she added, turning to hug Lily and Albus tightly.

Imogen tried to look invisible, but was caught in a hug as well, then they were at the fireplace, Ginny directing each of them went through the grate. When Imogen fell into the house, she saw James pacing the living room, Harry talking to him. "...keep a level head." Harry stopped. James turned towards her, then walked away, going down the hall into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Imogen hurried into her own room and dropped the broom and bag. She took calming breaths as she stood in front of the mirror, brushing out her hair which was flaked with pieces of hay. Imogen didn't feel like drawing attention to herself by going to the bathroom to clean up. She'd used enough magic last night and it didn't much matter if she did it now. She could hear bits and pieces of Harry and Ginny's conversations when they stopped whispering.

"...not like her, Ginny. There must be a reason."

Imogen cleaned her face.

"...after you with James last night you're telling me I'm being unreasonable?"

"I'm just saying you might be taking James's feelings too much into account."

She changed her clothes.

"So if you found Lily sleeping entangled with some boy in the loft of a barn, you wouldn't react this way?"

It was half an hour before there was a knock at her door. Harry opened it a little. "Can you come out here, please Imogen."

Not saying anything, she got off the bed and walked into the living room. Ginny sat tight jawed and arms folded across her chest on the couch. Imogen took a seat in one of the arm chairs opposite as Harry took a spot next to Ginny. "Imogen, do you understand why we were upset about this morning?"

She nodded.

"Answer him," Ginny demanded. Harry reached over, placing a hand over Ginny's, though he didn't look away from Imogen.

"I shouldn't have gone off without telling anyone last night," she said.

"Can you tell us why you did?" he asked.

The fight with James brought tears to her eyes. _You're not really part of the family_ rung in her ears. "I was upset a-and I just wanted to talk with Lorcan."

"And you couldn't have spoken with one of us?"

 _No_ , she thought. _Not about James._ It hadn't been an issue before. Any little spats they'd had were at Hogwarts and were generally resolved quickly. Even then it was more than that. These dreams—or memories or whatever they were—weren't something she felt she could tell them about. Lorcan was the only one that knew, though even he didn't know about the light or that she wondered if they were more than just dreams. "I just wanted to talk to Lorcan about it."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone you were leaving?" Ginny asked. Her tone was less controlled than Harry's.

"I was going to be back before anyone knew I was missing! We just fell asleep, I swear! Nothing happened."

"Whether anything happened is beside the point," Ginny said. "You snuck out in the middle of the night and had the entire house searching for you all morning! Do you know how worried we were? Do you know what we thought may have happened to you?" She kept going as Imogen's head pulsed with pain. Ginny kept on with all the worries and concerns that had flashed through her mind when no one knew where Imogen was. Her lecture grew louder and louder until, by the end, she was shouting. "And that's not to mention what it did to Lily! She was running through the woods calling your name! Absolute panic!"

"I'm sorry, all right?" Imogen found herself shouting back. "I didn't _mean_ for that to happen! Can we just drop it already?"

"Don't talk to your mother like that," Harry said.

"She's _not_ my mother!"

Imogen saw the fury melt into hurt as she stood, ran into her room, and threw herself onto her bed, sobbing into her pillows. No one came to get her again and Imogen fell asleep.

Several hours later there was a knock on the door and Imogen pushed herself up, looking out the window. It was dark out and Ginny walked in carrying a tray with a plate of food and large glass of water. "You need to eat dinner," she said. She was quiet and gentle again—how she normally was with Imogen.

Imogen sat up against her headboard and Ginny sat facing her on the edge of the bed, placing the tray on her lap. Imogen drank the water down first. It was gone in a few gulps. Ginny pulled out her wand to refill it. "I know I'm not your mother," she finally said. Imogen couldn't bring herself to look at Ginny. "And I'm sorry for yelling. But you can't just run off like that."

"I'm sorry," Imogen said. Tears had coming so frequently in the last twenty-four hours that they spring to her eyes again. Ginny turned, sitting right beside Imogen, putting an arm around her.

"We were probably all just very tired as well," Ginny added with a deep breath. Imogen leaned against her shoulder. "Mind you, you're still grounded for a week."

Imogen nodded. She'd expected as much.

"And I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything," Ginny continued, running her fingers through Imogen's hair.

Imogen thought about her mother, and the dreams, and the ball of light, but she couldn't tell Ginny. Especially not after what she'd said today. So she just nodded. Ginny leaned over and kissed her on the top of her head. "You _are_ one of ours, Imogen."

Ginny got up then, leaving Imogen to eat on her own.


	3. Vocan Orbis

_**Vocan Orbis**_

The next few days were close to the worst Imogen had ever experienced—only surpassed by the days following her parents' deaths. Ginny made sure Imogen was given a draught when her headache still wasn't gone the next morning and she mostly acted as though nothing had happened with Imogen, only occasionally having more chores for her to do as per her grounding. It was James that made it hard. He spent most of his time in his room and when he did come out for meals, he wouldn't even look at Imogen, let alone talk to her. "He's being an idiot," Lily said hourly, but it didn't make Imogen feel any better.

Imogen spent most of her time searching through a handful of books in the house trying to figure out what that circle of light was. On the third evening since coming back home, Imogen found a passage on something called a _vocan orbis_. She read through it three times.

 _Not much is known concerning vocan orbis, except it's description as a ball of light. They may come in a variety of sizes and colors and have been said to be a creation to bridge the worlds of life and death. Used as a method to request the presence of a loved one far away._

She flipped through the next few pages, but that was it. Three sentences. _Vocan orbis_. That's what she had seen. Her eyes read the phrase "bridge the worlds of life and death" half a dozen more times. Excitement coursed through her.

"Dad?" she called. He had to know something about this, right? It was in a defense book. Maybe Ginny would know. Imogen moved off her bed, walking towards the door. "Dad? Ginny?"

She yanked open her door and there was James, his face blank as he glared at her. Imogen's mouth was open as her breath caught. "Hi," she said.

"Mum and Dad are at that fundraiser tonight," he said.

"Oh," Imogen said. She had completely forgotten. "Right… James—"

"I need my broom," he interrupted.

Imogen swallowed and nodded. She turned into her room again, throwing the book onto the bed. His broom leaned against the corner next to her dresser. James stepped inside, leaning back against the doorframe as she grabbed it. "Thanks," he said as he reached for the handle, but she didn't let it go.

"Can we talk?" she asked.

He didn't try to pull away, but let the broom stay between them, each of them holding on with one hand. "Yeah, well, I did have a couple questions." He finally looked at her. "Like about when you figured out you enjoyed having Lorcan as a body pillow? Was it in your study sessions? Or during prefect duties?"

"James, I didn't—"

"Or about how you were too tired our first night at The Burrow to spend time with me, but you suddenly found energy to go spend the night elsewhere? Was the barn cozy that night too?"

"I wasn't with Lorcan then!"

"I guess that was my mistake for believing that whole _Guilded Mariposa_ bullshit. Tell me, Imogen, if he had taken you to the Room of Requirement, would you have put the brakes on with him too? Because, you know, I felt like I was trying to do the right thing because you weren't ready, but now that I know you turned me down because someone else had just worn you out already—"

"Stop it! Why are you saying that?" Imogen was trying not to cry, but she was having a hard time of it. She let go of the broom. "James, I'm sorry! But there wasn't anything going on with Lorcan! He's just my friend!"

James swallowed, taking back the cool demeanor on again. "It's okay, I'm over it," he said. "I have a date with Shanna Read this weekend, actually. She's in your house right? So go do whatever you want with Lorcan." He walked out of the room.

Imogen folded in on herself. She fell to the ground, sitting against her bed rocking back and forth with her arms wrapped around her knees. She heard her door close and Lily's arms were around her a moment later.

"Shhhh," Lily directed, rubbing her back. "He's such a liar, Imogen. THE WORLD'S BIGGEST PRAT! Shanna Read is spending her holiday in Rome, everyone knows that. She wouldn't shut up about it. HE'S A MANKY MAGGOT! Besides, it would serve him right if he did take her out. She's an idiot. Seriously, I don't understand how she's in Ravenclaw in the first place. USELESS GIT!"

Lily kept up with encouragements punctured with shouted insults for the next twenty minutes before Imogen gained control and caught her breath. "I'm okay," she said shakily. "I'll be alright."

"Imogen, that wasn't right, the things he said."

She wiped at her eyes. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep there."

"That's ridiculous," Lily said. "Come on, Imogen, it's obvious there's nothing going on between you and Lorcan. Even Mum realized that once she'd calmed down. And if James is too blind a jealous toerag to see how much you care about him, he doesn't deserve you."

Imogen stood, opening her window for some fresh air.

"Come on, let's do something else. Uncle George gave me some mood changing nail polish to test for him," Lily suggested.

They passed the rest of the night sitting on Imogen's bed—doing their nails, seeing if they could force the color to change, and talking. They fell asleep head to toe on top of the covers, but someone must have come in and turned out the light, because when Imogen woke in the dead of dark, the only light was a green orb floating near the window. Imogen almost jumped. Lily laid out spread eagle with her head at the foot of the bed. Imogen carefully moved, stood, and followed as the orb floated out the window, staying still like it was waiting for her. No song from it tonight. Just the green light and Imogen had a horrible impression that this was her last chance to heed it. She remembered the book and it's description. " _Used as a method to request the presence of a loved one far away."_ How far was "far away"? A hundred miles? Two hundred? All she knew is she needed to follow it.

Imogen carefully opened her closet, finding a medium sized satchel. She didn't want to take much. Almost everything she owned had been given to her by Ginny and Harry. She put on some jeans and a t-shirt and a hoodie over that. She threw some clothes into the bag. No room for the book. Besides, that would feel like she was stealing. She dug under her bed for an older pair of running shoes. Imogen wondered if Lysander was right that they'd have a trace on her wand. She'd have to leave it behind, just in case.

"What are you doing?" Lily asked quietly. Imogen froze. "W-what are you packing a bag for? Imogen, where are you going?"

She sat on the corner of the bed. "I have something I have to do," she said.

"Is this because of James?"

"No," Imogen said. She wondered for a moment if James were speaking to her would she even attempt this? Yes. But she probably would be going into his room right now to convince him to come with. "No, it's… something else. It has to do with my parents." She didn't dare to elaborate more. "I'll be back, though."

"Imogen—"

"Look, I can just make you forget this conversation or you can let me go," she said. "Either way I'm leaving."

Imogen couldn't see much detail in the dark, but Lily was wiping at her face. "When are you going to be back?"

"I don't know for sure," she admitted.

"Imogen, shouldn't you talk to Mum and Dad—"

"There's no time," Imogen said. If she went to get them, the light might be gone before she got back. Even if it wasn't, she didn't think they would let her follow it if they knew. She scrambled for the compact mirror on the side table. She placed her hand over it, whispering an incantation and it glowed, emitting an image of Imogen in its surface. "Here. Take this." Lily reached for it. The image didn't change, but kept Imogen's face in the center. "That way you can know I'm all right. Just… don't tell anyone?"

Lily still looked unsure, but finally nodded, turning on her side as she watched the mirror. Imogen renewed her packing and found a scrap of paper to write a short note. When she pulled open the top drawer looking for ink she saw a locket James had given her for her 16th birthday. It had a picture of the two of them inside and a design with an eagle and lion intertwined engraved in its metal. She closed the drawer. He didn't want to have anything to do with her anymore. She shouldn't want it, but she did. After writing the note, Imogen gave in and opened the drawer again, digging out the necklace. She unhooked the clasp, putting it around her neck.

Lily sat up when Imogen turned, ready to leave. She threw her arms around Imogen's neck. "You're the best sister I could have ever asked for," Lily said.

Imogen felt her resolve shift, but a melody had started from outside. "You too," she said. Lily let go, hopped off the bed, and left her room. Before Imogen could second guess herself, she crawled out of the window where the light still waited for her.

* * *

"Harry! _Harry!"_

James groaned, turned over, and clamped a pillow over his ear to block out his mother's yelling. Doors opened and slammed and they weren't even trying to be quiet for anyone who wanted a lie in.

After his argument with Imogen in her room, he found himself face to face with Lily—little and terrifying Lily who sneered at him. Thank Merlin she couldn't do magic right now. There was a tentacle hex she had a reputation for around school. "You're an arse," she said, then walked passed him into Imogen's room, closing the door behind her. Lily's yelled insults weren't anything compared to hearing Imogen crying. He thought if he made her feel like he did when he'd seen her with Lorcan, he would feel better than this. Instead, he wanted to go in there and apologize. Grabbing his wand, he went out the door before he could cave. Didn't she deserve this? Even if she didn't want to date Lorcan, she wouldn't listen to him when he'd told her Lorcan liked her. And he was right.

He'd spent the night in a local pub, talking to the bartender and getting thoroughly wasted. "I loved her," James had slurred towards the end. "I _loved_ her, and I thought she loved me."

"One more on the house," the bartender said. "To young love and never running away from it." James raised the glass and stopped. It was Fritz smiling back at him. Fritz? How? He shook his head and when he looked again, the bartender was the same pudgy middle aged man he'd talked to all night. Instead of taking a drink, James put the glass down and walked out.

James arrived back home around two in the morning. He didn't hear anything from Imogen's room—insults and tears were silent now. Quietly, he cracked the door open. Imogen and Lily were sharing the bed, fast asleep. Lily was sprawled out, but he trained his attention on Imogen, curled up with her knees close to her chest, and her lips barely parted as she took easy breaths. His heart hurt and he didn't know of any potions or charms that could fix it. _Maybe there's a plant for that_ , he thought wryly.

"James?" He turned around. His parents had just come in, both dressed up and looking tired. His mum, who had a white block of hair in the front that usually framed her face, looked sophisticated with the white strands looping into a knot of vivid red on the back of her head. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"I just noticed the light was on," he said, flipping the switch and closing the door. His mother was looking at him knowingly, but walked over and gave him a kiss on the cheek, saying she was going to bed. His dad waited as she walked down the hall.

"You have to let this go," Harry finally said.

"She was the one who went off to spend the night with some other guy."

"Yes, perhaps," Harry said. "But how long are you going to get drunk instead of an apology?" James didn't respond and Harry clamped his hands on James's shoulders. "I love you, but you're acting stupid, son. Go get some sleep." He patted his cheek and walked away.

James did just that, but it looked like they didn't care if he got sleep now. Growling, James rolled out of bed.

"What do we do, Harry?" Ginny cried, a tremor in her voice. "What do we do?"

James knit his brow as Ginny's crying grew louder. Lily was peeking out from her room, head and shoulders in the hallway. She turned towards James. Her eyes were red and swollen. Quickly, she went back in, closing her door. Albus sat in an armchair looking sick and James worried about what he was going to find out. Harry rubbed Ginny's back on the couch, both of them in their pajamas.

"What's going on?" James asked.

Ginny didn't move, sobbing into her hands. Harry picked up a piece of parchment from her lap, handing it over to James.

 _There's something I need to do. It can't wait. I'll be back as soon as possible._

 _Please forgive me._

 _Imogen_

"Where would she have gone?" Ginny asked between shuddering sobs.

James dropped the paper and ran. He took the front door, running barefoot up the main road. An old woman working in her garden was the only one out and her eyes followed him, though James didn't care. His mum's words kept ringing in his head. _What are we going to do? Where would she have gone?_ When he stopped, he was in the middle of a field of wildflowers, running right into the center. "Imogen!" he shouted. "This isn't funny! You can come out now!"

Some birds sang from the trees and he looked around the clearing, waiting for some kind of movement. They came here together often. It was a place to talk, a place to be away from his mum's random chore assignments when they were caught snogging somewhere, and just a place to be together. The family came up once a year, maybe, for a picnic, but James and Imogen spent hours and hours here. Surely she was just having a moment. She was upset and going someplace to be alone rather than stay in the house. And here, their place, would be where she'd come. "Imogen!"

James fell on the spot and into the grass, digging his fingers into his hair, trying to think. Where else would she be? What did she need to do? _Why didn't she tell me?_ What were the chances this sudden need to do something alone cropped up since coming back home? Who would she have told? Lorcan. That's who. He'd go have a chat with him. Then he remembered last night. When he'd come home and looked in on Imogen—her peaceful sleeping form next to Lily's.

James stood and started back home. He heard his dad talking in the kitchen. "She may be going to Diagon Alley. She'd have to if she needs muggle money. Let's contact George… and we'll have a notice put out with the portkey authority."

James was suddenly glad Imogen couldn't apparate yet. Rather than joining the brainstorming session, he turned to the hallway, going to Lily's room, bursting through the door. She sat on her bed, legs crossed, holding a compact mirror in front of her. She snapped it shut and looked up at him. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"How am I supposed to know?" Lily countered, the sneer from last night returning.

"You were in the room with her last night! I saw you!"

"I woke up in the middle of the night and came back to my room. She was still there when I left."

James had seen her lie easily enough before, and he was certain this was the lead they needed. "You know something and you're going to tell me."

Lily stood, gripping the mirror in her right hand. She was at least a head shorter than James, but you wouldn't know it the way she drew herself up. "Don't make me your scapegoat! Just because you pushed her away! I wouldn't tell you anything, even if I did know." Lily tried to shut the door on him, but James blocked her and grabbed her arm. She _knew_ something and he was determined to figure out what. "Let go of me!"

"James, what are you doing?" Ginny asked coming down the hall. Her eyes were swollen and her nose was red. "Don't touch your sister like that."

Lily jerked out of his hand before he could let her go. "She was with Imogen all night," he said, looking at Ginny.

"Lily, is that true?"

"I woke up in the middle of the night and went back to my room. She was there when I left." Lily repeated before she turned to James. "He's just trying to find someone else to blame. After the disgusting things he said to her."

"James?" Ginny turned to back to him.

He turned and went into his own room, though he could still hear Lily filling their mother in on everything he'd said to Imogen while they were at the fundraiser. He was in for a lecture if he stuck around. Packing a bag and changing into fresh clothes, he walked out to the hallway.

"James," Ginny said. Eyes wide in disbelief, she looked something like a confunded owl. "Where are you going?"

"To find Imogen," he snapped, walking out the front door.

* * *

The sun was up and Imogen was getting too warm in the hoodie now. She sat up, rubbing her eyes, and took a deep breath. The orb had lead her here, stopped and images appeared inside it. A train yard, from what she could tell. Signs were posted along the walls and they weren't in English, but in French. It looked grungy and unused. Nothing like the photos of train stations talked about in Muggle Studies. She reached out, trying to touch the orb and it zoomed away again.

"No! Wait!" she said helplessly.

After Imogen found a bench, she dug through her bag, pulling out a satchel of galleons, sickles and knuts, counting them out. One hundred twenty galleons and some change. Everything she'd saved since she was about twelve. Her stomach growled and she was wishing she'd thought of grabbing some fruit from the kitchen before leaving. The only place she knew to get muggle money was Diagon Alley, but she wasn't sure where that was compared to where she was now. It was near a train station, that much she remembered, but she wasn't certain it was King's Cross, like the school train.

For a moment she thought maybe she should just go back. Her feet hurt from a couple hours of walking and she was worried that she'd either be unable to find the trainyard or, worse, the green orb was gone forever. Had they seen the note yet? Would Lily keep her promise? The questions made her stomach churn and she knew she couldn't turn back now. Once she gave up there was no trying again.

There was an underground sign just across the street. She took the stairs down, watching as people entered one at a time. If she disillusioned herself, she could crawl beneath the entrance and no one would notice. Maybe. Stepping into a bathroom, she stuffed her sweater into her bag and brushed her fingers with her hair, splashing a little water on her face. Leaning against the sink, she thought about Diagon Alley. "Merlin!" she exclaimed when she realized. George was there. How often did he go to Gringotts? Did he still live near there? There were others who lived and worked in London that might recognize her.

Better to fix it now than later. She swallowed, closing her eye and running her fingers through her hair. When they were to the bottom of her ears, she closed her fingers together and everything below fell away. Imogen took a minute to test that length before she took another chunk and did it again, then again, and again. It wasn't perfectly even and just long enough, now, to tuck behind her ears.

She pictured a dark brown color and attempted to make her hair that. She ended up with a gradient that was the proper color at the roots, but ended in the same golden brown of Lorcan's hair.

Looking much different, Imogen examined the overall effect. At first glance she might not be recognized, but her face still looked too much like her. Especially if Ginny or Harry thought to get George involved, and Imogen knew that the way the Weasley family worked it was entirely possible. Going ahead with the disillusionment, she decided to make a trip to Flourish and Blotts first. It was much closer to the Leaky Cauldron and she could find a spell book to figure out how to change herself a little more.

The station had developed a bustle while she'd been in the bathroom and she had to wait until one of the attendants put an "out of order" sign on one of the units. At that point she had a space that she could crawl beneath without risk of being found or trampled. Then there was the train schedule and map. It was more confusing than the advanced star charts they'd done for O.W.L.s and she was looking around London, trying to remember exactly where the entrance was. There were two stops that sounded familiar. They looked close enough that if the one was wrong, maybe she could walk to the other.

She almost missed the first one, being stuck behind a group of people, having to shove herself through. One woman with a briefcase and wearing a suit started yelling at the man behind her for pushing and Imogen said, "sorry," as the doors closed. A man on the platform with her started looking around for who was talking.

Imogen wandered the streets of London for the next forty-five minutes until she finally saw the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. With a sigh, she undid the disillusionment, went in, and ordered a sandwich and a butterbeer. She found a spot in a dark corner to eat and was able to ask the time. Just past noon. She couldn't get a portkey since you had to show identification for that. She supposed she'd have to go the muggle way. There were advertisements in the underground for a train that travelled under water to Paris, it seemed, and she'd have muggle money soon.

Carefully, she left the Leaky Cauldron, following two men engrossed in conversation into Diagon Alley. Once she was in Flourish and Blotts, it was easier to keep herself out of sight. Going into the transfiguration section first, she found what she wanted quickly. She still couldn't change her face shape, but by looking at her reflection in a dusty window, Imogen widened her nose, added a mole on her right cheek, and made herself look like she was in her mid twenties (according to the book—she still looked awfully young to herself).

Next, she tried the defense area for more information on _vocan orbis_. Book after book was piling up and she still found nothing. The last book, an encyclopedia of spells, only added that it was first used in Belarus. What she had thought was a decent amount of money now seemed like very little. She was regretting the full meal at the Leaky Cauldron knowing she could have bought a whole sack of apples for the amount she'd just spent.

Putting the book back on the shelf, Imogen decided she couldn't wait another minute. She needed to get moving. How long did it take to get to Belarus the muggle way?

The queue wasn't terribly long for exchanges. She decided half of her money she'd keep as it was and the other half she'd exchange for muggle currency.

A very bored young man with flat, sandy hair called her forward. "Pounds or euros?"

"I-I'm not sure."

"You stayin' in London?" he asked and looked at her, lulling his head to one side.

"No," she said. "I'm… going to Paris, too."

He started flipping through a notebook of information. "Visiting from Australia?" he asked.

"Y-yes," she replied. It was as good a story as any. She did have an Australian accent, after all. "Just seeing a few places… nearby."

"How much?"

Imogen placed a large handful of galleons and sickles on the countertop and he counted them out, handing her both paper money and coins. "The paper have printed the amount in euros, anythin' below a five is a coin," he started in a droll, uninterested voice. "There's a pamphlet to sort through. The Ministry recommends becomin' familiar with all guidelines for muggle money use before you shop. Anythin' else I can help you with today?"

"Uh, no. Thanks," she said, taking the money. She shuffled through, trying to get the feel for how each looked. There were a lot more pieces in muggle money than in wizarding gold. How would she keep it all straight? Hopefully she wouldn't need more either, because she had no idea where she'd be able to exchange outside of Diagon Alley.

Imogen was just organizing the bills by their amount on the way out the door when someone knocked into her shoulder. The money in her hands dropped and scattered along the steps. "Oh no!" she said, squatting and gathering it up quickly, glad there wasn't any wind.

"Sorry about that!"

She froze, looking up. James had just squat down near her, grabbing bills and coins in the space around him. His uncle, George, was helping too, as Imogen swallowed and busied herself with collecting, heat rising to her cheeks. While she looked different, she wondered how easily he could recognize her voice. Why hadn't she thought to see if there was a spell for that? She'd never tried to learn an accent other than her own. If only she had joined in when others in Australia would mimic Fritz's German accent. Eben and Taylor were particularly good at that.

Imogen had stuffed most of the money into her left hand. She turned to her right, reaching for a coin. James had reached a little faster and as his hand reached under hers, little golden sparks flitted from her palm on their own—like her hand recognized his and knew exactly what to do. She closed her hand into a fist, but James had stopped. He waited a moment, then they both stood. "Here you go," he said, holding out the money he'd gathered. "Sorry, again."

Imogen looked up at him just for a moment. He wore a curious expression. "S'okay," she muttered, then turned to George who had a little more and nodded her thanks.

As soon as she situated it the best she could (many of the bills now wrinkled and sticking out between her fingers), Imogen turned and headed down the steps, chancing glances over her shoulder. When James and George made it through the large double doors of Gringotts, she bolted.

* * *

There was something familiar in that woman he'd just knocked into, though James couldn't place it. He'd figure it out later. This needed to be done first.

"I already talked to Grandpa about the portkey situation," James said. "And he said he'd get on it."

"Are your parents meeting you here at some point?" George asked.

"No," James said shortly. He didn't want to think of what their next conversation would consist of. If he could bring Imogen home, then it wouldn't matter.

George ignored all lines, walking up to a tall man in expensive robes with fingers full of rings. "Hey there, Trevor," George said. "I have a favor to ask."

George explained the situation and Trevor lead them over to a kid in a cage that had a sign reading "exchanges" overhead. James doubted very much he would be any help. He had the look of having been stunned one too many times.

"Kent," Trevor said. The customer Kent had just helped walked away and they interrupted the queue. "Have you seen anyone that looks like this come through this morning?"

Trevor held out a photograph of Imogen. She was standing in the snow at Hogwarts, hands dug deep in her pockets, smiling, shyly biting her bottom lip. It was one of James's favorite pictures of her. Kent's dopey eyes narrowed in what James could only hope was concentration. "Nope," he said. "No one like that."

"Can we leave this photograph with you?" George asked. He held out his hand at shoulder level, "she's about this tall, small build, and she has an Australian accent—"

"Was she supposed to be meetin' anyone?" Kent asked. "'cause we jus' had an Australian woman come through just a few minutes ago. I remember 'cause we don't get 'em much here. Usually exchange theirs monies at home firs'."

"What did she look like?" James asked, a chill already tingling down his spine.

"Short brown hair, pretty face… 'bout that high, I think. Maybe a little shorter."

James looked at George, who didn't seem to understand, but James didn't wait or explain as he ran across to the exit. Once on the portico, he looked out over the crowds. He should have known when he saw those sparks. He took the steps down, thinking he might receive inspiration about where to look next, but by the time he was at the bottom common sense had kicked in. She was long gone by now. Gone from Diagon Alley, where she knew James was and they had no way to figure out her next move.

James turned around and hit a brick wall with the both hands, pacing as he covered his face. George was coming down the steps now. "She was right there!" James yelled, pointing towards the top of the steps. "Right in front of us!" Several people looked their way.

"You sure that was her?"

"Had to be!" James said.

"Well, onto Plan B, then."

"There is no Plan B! There was barely a Plan A!"

People nearby whispered behind their hands now. "Come on," George said. "Come back to the shop and we'll talk."


	4. The Runaway Train

**_The Runaway Train_**

Imogen sat under the Eiffel Tower as the sky went dark. Getting on the train had been fine. It wasn't until she was in Paris, heading towards a row of desks with people taking little booklets from departing passengers, that Imogen had to stop and take stock of what was going on before moving forward. Her solution hadn't been exactly foolproof either. First she pulled one of those little booklets from the back pocket of a woman who'd been on the train with her. She duplicated it and threw the original by the woman's feet. "This keeps falling out of my pocket!" she exclaimed, bending down to pick it up.

There were people along the edges of the walls, looking as the passengers came through. One was wearing a strange combination of muggle clothes, including a grey plaid vest with a green and purple checkered tie. She kept him in the corner of her eye as she approached one of the queues in the middle. Carefully, she handed over the book and the man opened it up. It was only then Imogen realized there was a picture inside and the woman she'd copied her booklet from looked nothing like her. The man was looking back and forth between her and the picture. In a moment of panic, Imogen raised her palm a little, confunding the man. "Zair you go, Mademoiselle," he said with a smile, handing it back. "Enjoy Paris!"

As she was jostled through the crowd, Imogen noticed the man along the edge narrow his eyes, stepping down and following her. She ducked down between two flows of traffic, disillusioning herself in their midst. She still ran low, getting out into the streets, running until she found an abandoned alley. Imogen peeked around into the crowds for half an hour, until she was sure he wasn't still tailing her.

The only other problem was how much of her money it took for a ticket. When looking for tickets all the way to Belarus, she realized that she would have to exchange all her galleons to afford it and that would only work if she starved from here on out. Going into a bakery in the square, she bought a baguette and some kind of small chocolate pastry that wasn't terribly expensive. Eating half the bread, she wrapped the other half and stuffed it into her satchel. The pastry was too good to have restraint.

Wiping her hands on her jeans she tried to think of what was next. The trainyard could be anywhere in this country. There were other countries that used French as a main language as well, which made her stomach sink to think about. No, Imogen thought, no it must be here somewhere.

Also, she'd have to put aside any guilt in going on trains without paying or she'd be out of money in a few days. There had been a park not far from here. With any luck, the orb would find her and start leading her in the darkness, so she should try and get some sleep now.

She had just passed a couple snogging under a bush when she heard the song.

 _Just before the sun will rise_

Imogen looked frantically around her. She ran towards where she thought it was coming from.

 _Meet me there and find a rainbow_

There, in the middle of a pond within the park, she found the source. Her mother's figure glowed, standing inside the gazebo surrounded by water. Imogen looked around. Was there a path? Did she need a boat? She shuffled in her mind through spells that may help—secrecy statutes be damned—when her mother walked towards her, over the rippling water. So many impossibilities, but Imogen just watched. Imogen froze as the figure came closer, still singing with a small smile. She reached out, brushing her fingers against Imogen's cheek as she passed. Imogen closed her eyes, the smell of lavender lotion and the feel of soft petals overwhelming her. But her mother, or whatever ghost of her mother this was, continued. Imogen followed.

 _In our spot  
Beside the meadow  
Underneath the willow's leaves_

They were lyrics she hadn't heard. Imogen's mother moved faster, down a street where the houses were becoming large, old brick buildings with dirt and soot everywhere. Imogen was trying to keep up, desperate to hear and memorize these new words.

 _We will sway  
So soft and mellow  
For what's left of summer eves_

Her mother turned right, walking straight through a chain link fence and Imogen turned, pressing against the fence. "No! Wait!"

She watched as her mother became a ball of light, floating in the same spot she had stood. The melody still hung on the air. Imogen breathed heavily, looking around for a break in the fence, but there wasn't one. She had never been one to scramble up and down obstacles and as she looked up, there was barbed wire on the top. Looking around again, this time to make sure she was alone, Imogen turned back, holding out her right hand to the metal in front of her. " _Peribit_ ," she said. The metal links broke, one by one, until there was enough space for Imogen to crawl through. She ran, trying to catch up to the greenish glow, which was losing its shape quickly.

Imogen didn't notice where she was until she was in the midst of train cars. She was running on tracks and she looked around. This is where the orb showed her yesterday. "Mum!" she shouted, but it wasn't her mother anymore. It had become the _vocan orbis_. Still, she walked towards it.

" _Tu! Arrêtez!_ "

Imogen turned around. A light bounced, trained her as a man chased after her, shouting in French. Her heart pounded, following the track and the now zooming orb. It took a left, passing between cars. Imogen followed. The man was getting closer. She was between two trains, the one stationary on her right and the other just jerking to a start. The orb followed this, the screech of metal-against-metal ringing in Imogen's ears as she felt a stitch in her side. Twenty yards up, the orb zoomed into the open door of a car. Imogen pushed herself. Her legs protested as she went faster, trying to keep the man well behind her and get into that car.

A boy hung out of the open door, holding out a lantern. Imogen could only hope he was better than what was behind her. He disappeared for a moment. Imogen thought everything was over. She'd be caught, sent home, and probably expelled from Hogwarts; especially if the man had seen how she broke through the fence. A moment later, the boy appeared again, a complete silhouette with his arm outstretched.

Imogen pushed beyond all pain from running. She could hear the man's foot fall in the gravel behind her now. The train sped up. She was ten feet from the door, then three, then it looked like she wouldn't catch up. She lunged for the boy's hand, missing it and losing ground. He only leaned out further. With a mad dash she found his hand grasping her forearm, she did the same with both hands wrapped around his arm and jumped.

Imogen nearly fell back to the ground, but his other hand reached for her waist, pulling her the rest of the way in and swinging her against the wall. The lantern was on the floor, casting a glow on the two of them. Imogen was still holding his arm and relaxed. "Thank you," she said.

He smiled, but rather than reply he lunged in, kissing Imogen on the mouth. Her whole body tensed, eyes widened, but before she could react he had pulled away with the same smile. That's when Imogen noticed others in the car with them. Two boys about her age, against the other wall of the car, laughed.

"Excuse Paolo," a third person said. This one a girl. She was thin with long arms and legs, sitting crosslegged in the corner with curly auburn hair and an Irish accent. "He's Italian, so he thinks everything should be said with a kiss." Paolo was still holding onto Imogen. She stepped sideways out of his arms. "I'm Ennis," she added. Paolo had decided to lean against the wall, facing Imogen.

"Like I said that's Paolo," Ennis said. Imogen looked wearily at him as he winked. "And this is Théo—he's French, so he'll wait at least an hour before kissing you—and Hal."

Théo reminded Imogen of a boy she knew at Hogwarts with Indian descent: dark hair, naturally warm skin, and dark eyes. He simply nodded, leaning back with his arms hanging over his knees. Hal stood, tossing an apple up and catching it easily. He was eyeing Imogen with one eyebrow raised, sizing her up.

"So what's your name, Snow White?" Hal asked, the heavy Scottish accent placing him farther north than the others. He was tall and pale with hair as dark as James's, though it was more tamed. He took a bite from the apple, still looking at her.

"Snow what?" she asked.

"Snow White," Ennis articulated the words as though Imogen just hadn't heard properly. Imogen still looked between them, confused. "You haven't heard of Snow White? Hell, she may be the most screwed up one we've come across. It's a fairytale. You know, singing duets with birds, walking around with seven little men… really? You've never heard of it?"

"She liked apples, too," Hal added, tossing his apple to Imogen. She caught it, turning it to find that the surface had been chewed off in a ring around the middle. "But you didn't answer the question of what we call you?"

"Imogen," she replied. As soon as she said it she realized she should have lied and come up with an alias. Really, what were the chances that these four had given their real names? And after what happened in Diagon Alley, there was a paranoia that somehow Harry and Ginny were going to figure out where she was. She kept going through everything she had told Lily or Lorcan and she couldn't figure out how that was possible, even if either of them spilled everything they knew. The mirror was a risk, but she felt better knowing she had at least some connection to Lily.

"Imogen," Hal said. "Pretty far from home aren't you? Couldn't have taken a train all this way?"

"I've been living in London the last couple years," she answered.

"Chill out, Hal, you can interrogate her later," Ennis said, then turned to Imogen. "We scored some cans of pudding. Have a seat."

Imogen sat nearby as Ennis took some contraption out of her bag and clamped it onto the edge of a tin. Imogen was confused and almost offered to open it herself, but the girl twisted a knob along the back and the metal was cut in a circle as she continued. _They're Muggles_ , Imogen realized. As they passed around the tin of vanilla pudding, each taking bites, Imogen felt guilty taking the little food they had. She pulled out the other half of her baguette.

" _Bonne!_ " Théo exclaimed.

"We don'ta get bread as dis," Paolo said, taking it from Imogen and turning it over in his hands. "How did you, ah, find?"

Imogen licked her lips. "Er, the woman who worked at the bakery saw me on the bench. Gave it to me." She didn't think telling them about her money was a good idea. She couldn't lose it, just in case. "I'm alright, so… share the rest. I'd have been caught if you hadn't helped me."

"That's just what we do," Ennis said with a shrug. "Code of the road. You'll learn. So why'd you run away?"

Imogen thought it was strange that they didn't know about the orb or that they wouldn't have connected her to the seemingly random source of light. She wondered if they had explained it away or if only she could see it, but didn't want to ask. Certainly she couldn't say she was following a floating green light to a bunch of muggles. That would just be strange. "I—" she tried to think of a legitimate reason. She'd apparently have to get better at lying. "Well, my grandmother was a tyrant." She felt guilty stealing Taylor's own story, but was glad that everyone was nodding as though they understood. She just hoped they didn't ask for details.

"Yeah, my stepda got real heavy handed when he was drunk," Ennis said. "Couldn't take another payday rage. Might as well travel if we're on the street, right?"

"Right," Imogen agreed.

"Théo just got kicked out of so many boarding schools his parents were threatening a military academy. Paolo's parents were always fighting. And Hal," Ennis looked towards him.

"Hal's just weird," he said for her, as though this speech had been given before.

"Yeah, just weird," Ennis confirmed, turning back to her chunk of the baguette and nibbling a small bite from it.

"Did you leave anyone behind?" Hal asked.

Imogen thought of all the people she left behind. But she hadn't… not really. She would go back. If they'd have her. "Just gran," she said. "But that's not much of a loss. Where is this train going to anyway?"

Ennis looked over to Théo. "Eh… end zin Brussels," he said, looking at a paper. Imogen moved, looking over his shoulder.

The paper was covered in blocks with little symbols and shorthand. Or perhaps it was French rather than shorthand and she just couldn't read it. Maybe Ennis couldn't either, which was why she defaulted to Théo on that matter.

"So where are you trying to get to?" Ennis asked Imogen, tearing off another small bit of bread.

"Belarus."

* * *

James was on the hill just above his grandparents' house, though he wouldn't be visiting them today. Instead, he walked down the path towards the Scamander home. There in the back was the barn. Just seeing its red exterior made his blood boil. He swallowed, trying to think of how his dad might do this. James imagined him walking up to the door, calm and collected, hand wrapped around the handle of his wand, ready for action. His dad would give Lorcan the chance to confess, then take him in if he didn't cooperate. In, here, didn't really apply. Maybe James could make Lorcan come back to his house, make him spill everything Imogen told him. Imogen and Lorcan had been so secretive between them that past week that he _must_ know something.

Lorcan came out of the house when James was still a hundred feet off, ruining any entrance he'd been thinking through. James put one hand on his wand. "I was surprised you weren't with your parents yesterday," Lorcan said.

"What is that supposed to mean?" James sneered.

Lorcan looked taken aback. "That I was surprised you didn't come when they asked if I knew where Imogen was," he replied. "Did she come back?" he added anxiously.

"I think you know she didn't," James said. "What did my parents ask you yesterday?"

"They just… came to see if Imogen had come here. I told them I hadn't seen her since—" Lorcan tinted pink, "—well, I haven't seen her. I was hoping maybe you were coming to tell us she'd been found."

James wasn't sure what to make of Lorcan. He was embarrassed and nervous. Was he really this good an actor? "Enough games," James said, he stepped forward and grabbed the front of Lorcan's shirt. Lorcan raised his hands. "What did Imogen tell you about where she was going?"

"Nothing," Lorcan said. "I swear, mate!"

"Don't call me mate," James growled.

"You're not… seriously still mad about the other night?"

Tempted to jinx him, James pushed him away. "You may have Imogen fooled, but I'm not an idiot." He glared at him. Maybe he was hiding Imogen. In his room, perhaps. James looked up at the house.

"Look, I don't know what you think happened, but if you're not going to believe me why ask me anything in the first place?"

James pulled a small vial of clear liquid from his pocket. In his fifth year, when Albus had information James wanted, he made his own batch of veritaserum. Nearly expelled from school for spiking Al's milk, James had to get rid of most of the potion. He luckily managed to keep this small amount while the rest was confiscated by the Headmistress, and James had never been more glad he'd held onto it.

"Seriously?" Lorcan looked ill. "Veritaserum?"

"What do you have to hide?" James asked.

Lorcan swallowed, looking around. "Alright, I guess, but s-somewhere that it's just us."

James nodded in agreement and Lorcan lead the way. James sorted through questions in his mind by priority. A few drops and he'd have half an hour. He probably had enough for a full afternoon, but he didn't want to waste it if he didn't have to. Who knew when he'd be able to get hold of some of the ingredients again without a special license. James stopped as it became clear where they were going. Lorcan turned back towards him. "What?"

"You're joking, right?" They were close to the barn, Lorcan obviously heading toward the door.

"It's the best place for some privacy," he said. James scowled and it took Lorcan a moment before he realized what he had just said. "I mean… well, it's true. Not that… anything really… just—"

"Fine," James cut him off, pushing past him and going into the barn first. He chose a spot in the ground level, back in a corner and as far away from the steps leading to the loft as possible. James sat on a bale of hay, leaning forward on his knees.

Lorcan sat across from him, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans. James reached out with the vial and told him to put a few drops under his tongue. Lorcan complied and James took his time recorking and pocketing the rest of it. "Where's Imogen?"

"I don't know," Lorcan said steadily. "I wish I did."

James wondered about loopholes with the potions. If anyone could figure out how to get around the questions, it would probably be a bookie Ravenclaw, like Lorcan. "Did Imogen ever tell you where she might go if she left?"

"No."

"Tell me what you talked about last week. The types of conversations you had when you visited us at the Borrow," he clarified.

Lorcan concentrated. "We talked about O.W.L.s, until Imogen said she was going to be sick if she heard one more word on it. We talked about her mum and the dreams she's been having, and—"

"What dreams?" James interrupted.

Lorcan's mouth opened and closed a couple times as he apparently struggled to change responses. A side effect from the potion, James figured. "Her mum kept coming to her in dreams. Singing to her. Imogen was humming the song a lot."

James thought back to that week. Imogen often mindlessly hummed, but he couldn't remember any specific song she seemed keen on last week. "Why was she talking about those dreams?" he asked.

Lorcan shrugged. "I don't know. She's been thinking more about her parents lately, I think. She brought it up a lot starting March or April."

"Then why wouldn't she talk to me about it?" James asked.

"Because you don't listen." Lorcan said it so matter-of-factly that James had to blink to clear his head.

"Excuse me?"

"You don't listen to her," Lorcan said. He swallowed and seemed to be gaining a head of steam. "Imogen doesn't just start talking about herself or what's on her mind. Usually she says things after it's been quiet for a while. But you… you never shut up."

James ground his teeth, feeling his face getting hot. "That's not true," James growled.

"Yes it is," Lorcan said. "That night in the barn, she came to me crying because you wouldn't hear her out."

"What else did she say that night?" James was gripping the edge of the bale to keep from punching Lorcan. He needed more answers first. Then he'd knock him out cold. Or hex him into the next decade.

"She asked me if I thought her parents had loved her."

Of the myriad of topics that he imagined Imogen and Lorcan sharing in the privacy of the barn under the starry night, that was not even on his radar. Did she really wonder that? His stomach lurched with guilt. "What else?"

"She told me that you said she wasn't really part of your family."

"That's not what I said," James said defensively. "I said it wasn't weird for us to date, because she's not really… I meant not technically..." He _had_ said that. "Did she talk about breaking things off with me?" This was not a question he'd planned on asking.

"No," Lorcan said. "She never said anything like that."

"But she told you I never shut up?"

Lorcan shook his head. "That's something I noticed. I've never heard her say an unkind word about anyone, least of all you."

"Have you ever kissed her?"

"No," Lorcan said incredulously. "Of course not."

"How long have you fancied her?"

"I don't fancy her, I fancy Lily," he said. His face paled and his jaw tightened as he swallowed. "Please… just… I didn't mean…"

Lorcan continued to stumble through justifying his last statement while James tried to grapple with what he'd just heard. He didn't know why he was shocked. Imogen had claimed as much. And perhaps that's what hit James so hard. She'd told him the truth and James had kept yelling. Lorcan bumbled along, running his hands through his hair and begging James not to tell anyone; not to tell Lily. "I won't," James said, distracted. "Have you ever asked Lily out?"

"No." This time Lorcan was downright emphatic. "I-I couldn't. S-she'd never…"

James wasn't listening anymore though. He stood from the hay, pacing. He finally stopped and turned around. "Do you have any theories about why Imogen left?"

Lorcan swallowed, clearly still concerned about his previously revealed secret. "She said she had something to do right? I think her dreams have been getting to her. So she might be trying to find who they were or see if she can find where they're buried… but personally, I don't understand the urgency since, you know, they're dead."

James nodded. He suddenly wished he'd spent more time thinking about what her note actually said. He couldn't seem to remember. All he could remember is that it was maddeningly short. "Yeah," James said. He looked over at Lorcan. His knee was bouncing and he was biting his bottom lip. Just friends… and what James said to Imogen the night before she left came into sharp focus for him. He had to find her. "Thanks."

James walked out of the barn leaving Lorcan there alone. He needed time to sort through an avalanche of understanding.

Rather than going directly home, James apparated into the field up the road, sitting in the grass. He tried to remember all the conversations he'd had with Imogen over the past several months. With exams there had been issues spending time with one another. They hadn't talked about much of anything. At least anything of importance. James, admittedly, liked to use the little time they had together to get in some decent snogging. Imogen was fine with that.

Or maybe she wasn't. James was seeing a strange new version of their relationship—one where Imogen went through the motions and just went along with whatever was going on. He shook himself out of this. No. Imogen loved him, at least she did. He loved Imogen. He could figure out how to shut up more for her.

The afternoon dipped down into evening and James still couldn't conjure anything useful from his memory. Still, he sat in the meadow, replaying long afternoons here with Imogen, if for no other reason than because he couldn't face his parents.

* * *

 _Hi Lily,_

 _I don't know who else to write to about this, but I want to know what's happening with Imogen. If you can._

 _Lorcan_

Lorcan looked over the paper again, then crumpled it up and threw it in the trash with the other half dozen drafts he'd already tried. All he knew is that he was going to be left completely in the dark unless he got in touch with someone. James didn't seem likely to warm to him anytime soon and Lorcan was pretty sure he was still in trouble with the Potters, too. They'd been nice enough when they came to ask if he'd heard from Imogen, but he'd been grounded for two weeks after being found with her in the barn. Lorcan's mum wasn't too strict, generally forgetting he was in trouble, but his dad certainly was enforcing the punishment when he was home. Between his mum and dad, Lorcan figured the Potters were more like him.

Maybe he could write to Albus. He knew Albus about as much as he knew Lily, and then he wouldn't risk making an absolute fool of himself with what he said. He'd just started on a new owl when someone knocked on his bedroom door. "Come in," he said.

"Hi." Lorcan recognized the voice and froze at his desk before slowly turning around. Lily stepped inside his room—she was _in his room!_ —closing the door behind her. Her perfect red hair was thrown up into a bun on the top of her head, though she still tucked the little strands of loose hair behind her ears as she turned toward him. She had something in her hands, turning it in her fingers. She was looking at him, waiting.

"Hey," he finally threw out of his mouth.

"I told my parents I wanted to spend the night with my grandma," Lily said. "I don't have long, but I needed to talk to someone."

"Oh," Lorcan said. _Oh?_ He was a moron. He should be kicked out of Ravenclaw straightaway. "I-I'm guessing it's about Imogen?"

Lily nodded. "I need to tell you something, but you have to promise it stays between us."

Lorcan was worried. He stood, trying to coolly lean against his desk, but missed the edge, tripping. He settled himself on the bed instead. "Have a seat," he said, indicating his desk chair.

Lily strode over and sat. "Imogen gave me this before she left," Lily said, handing over what was in her hands.

Lorcan took it from her, opening the compact mirror. There was a girl's image in the reflective surface. She had short brown hair and looked vaguely familiar. "Who is this?"

"That's Imogen," Lily said.

"She's...transfiguring herself?" he asked.

Lily nodded. "I was with her right before she left. She said she could make me forget or I could have that mirror to keep an eye on her. Only… I can't tell my parents. Besides the fact that they would murder me for not telling them she was going, I promised I wouldn't. But I need help figuring out what she's up to."

"H-how am I supposed to help with that?" Lorcan asked.

"You're the smartest person at our school," Lily said. Lorcan's face flushed hot. "I thought, you know, if we could be in touch, I could tell you what I see and… I don't know, we could figure what she's doing? Maybe help her, if it's needed?"

Lorcan was extremely grateful that Lily had come after James. He was still paranoid that the potion hadn't worn off yet, but at least he had legitimately known nothing when James was here. "I guess I could try."

Lily let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she said, leaning forward. "First, there's this green light that shined on her a few times. Right when she left and then again last night."

"Green light?" Lorcan knit his brows.

"Yeah," Lily said. "I don't know how to describe it, exactly. But… it's like she was trying to use it or follow it."

"Did you see it when she left?"

"No," Lily said. "But as soon as she climbed out the window it tinted her face."

They discussed the light and Imogen's movements as best as possible for the next hour. "I thought I saw the Eiffel Tower behind her at one point last night, but it's hard to tell."

"Yeah," Lorcan said. He was looking in the mirror when Imogen started talking to another girl with auburn hair. The girls' face barely came into the picture, mostly being filled with Imogen and too small to depict much. "I bet that's why she didn't mind giving you this."

"I better get back to Grandma's," Lily said. "I don't know the next time I'll be able to use the floo, so we can just send owls?"

Lorcan thought about the papers all sitting in the bin. How long would it take him to write more than a sentence to Lily? Even with her saying she wanted him to? To top it off, an owl had the potential to be seen and read by James. "I have a better idea," Lorcan said, going to his closet and digging through an old box. He pulled out two old, rusty tin cans and handed one to Lily.

"What's this?"

"My mum had them with her mum when she was little," he said, raising his can to his lips. "If you talk into one, anyone who has the other can hear it."

Lily looked down at the can in her hand, Lorcan's voice echoing from it. She smiled. "Brilliant!"

Lorcan blushed. "She gave them to Lysander and me when we were kids."

"No, this is perfect!" Lily was examining hers in her hand. "I'll just have to make sure my family's not around when I use it. Thanks!" She turned around, heading for the door. Her hand was on the knob when she stopped, looking at the poster on the wall to her left. "You like the _Blood Traitors?_ "

Lorcan gave something between a nod and a shrug. "Yeah," he said.

"Great band," she said with a smile, then walked out of his room.


	5. The Other Gypsy

_**The Other Gypsy**_

James walked in through the front door, quietly shutting it behind him. His parents were talking in the kitchen and he stood out of sight, listening to their discussion.

"Maybe she went back to Australia?" Ginny asked.

"She didn't go back to Australia," Harry replied. There was a frustration in his response.

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"We've been over this. She was spotted at the muggle customs in Paris," Harry said. "Confunded the muggle inspector then disappeared. Why would she go all the way to Paris just to try getting to Australia?"

"It's the only thing that makes any sense," Ginny said.

"Okay, let's pretend for a moment we don't know she was in France. You already contacted everyone she might have sought out in Duwick, no one's seen her."

There was a moment of silence before Ginny found her counterpoint. "But what if she went to the compound? If she thinks there's something back there?"

"If she took a portkey, we would already know and I can't imagine she'd have enough money for a plane ticket."

"She might have disillusioned herself and snuck on," James suggested, stepping over into the doorway between the living room and kitchen.

His parents both turned towards him. They looked like two stunned statues until Ginny let out a breath, shaking her head, and gathered papers from the kitchen table messily into her arms. "I can't, Harry. I just can't." Then she walked out of the kitchen and, without even looking at James as she passed, went all the way to the back of the house where her and Harry's room was. The door slammed behind her.

James had prepared himself for her anger. He'd expected a lot of short, loud reprimands and big hand gestures. Yelling he could have handled. Not his mum disappearing, her last words heavy with the threat of tears. He stepped into the kitchen, sat on the nearest chair, and looked down at his clasped hands on the table. After a couple minutes of working himself up, he looked at his dad.

Harry had been cleaning his glasses with the edge of his shirt. He put them back on and now had his arms folded in front of his chest. "Well, thanks for joining us."

"I've been out there trying to find Imogen."

"Any leads?" Harry asked.

"I think whatever she's after has to do with her parents," James said.

Harry leaned forward, nodding. "We wondered if it might be something like that."

"She changed her hair," James added. "And something about her face. George and I saw her in Diagon Alley. Didn't realize it was her until it was too late."

"So Imogen didn't feel inclined to throw herself into your open arms then?" Harry asked and James knew they'd arrived at it. The bitter sarcasm behind the words hung in the air between them.

"Look, I didn't mean—"

"Didn't mean to call her a slag? Or to throw in her face how little you apparently cared about your relationship?" He paused while this sunk in. "Your mum got out her pensieve and Lily let us see exactly what you said to Imogen."

"I didn't—Dad, that's not how I—"

"Just stop, James," Harry said. "After all the discussions, after _everything_ I could have sworn it would have sunk in."

"It did," James said weakly. It had started with lectures from Charlie in Australia about taking things slow, not rushing in. Then Harry had picked up when it was decided that Imogen would live with them, talking about protection, waiting, not pressuring, and loads of other embarrassing things James didn't necessarily wish to discuss. It seemed every month, they would have a refresher course. But no one had ever said what you do when your girlfriend is caught red handed—or so he thought—with someone else. "Dad, I was wrong, alright? But all that matters now is we find her. Before something bad happens."

Harry softened at this a bit, though his look was still stern. "I agree," he said. "And I think you could be some help, but you know it's not going to go well if you're the one out there trying to convince her to come back."

"But if I—"

"We need your help _here_."

"Dad—"

"Consider this your first order as an Auror in training," he cut James off. "You know that there's a good chance I'll still be head of the department when you're finished. You want a taste of the academy? I am your direct supervisor and you follow my orders. You help from here."

James nodded. He understood what this meant—his dad thought that Imogen would never forgive him. James didn't want him to be right, though. And when he had the chance, when Imogen was back, he would prove him wrong. Prove himself wrong too.

* * *

Ginny paced back and forth in her room, muttering to herself. The pattern started with trying to sift through the papers on her bed, followed with an inability to concentrate, dropping the hopeful evidence, and giving into the thoughts that wouldn't go away now that James was just in the other room.

"What he was thinking." She picked up a roster of those that had been at the compound when it was freed. "I can't believe the nerve!" The next was a letter to Imogen from Dakota that arrived a few days before. "Raised him better!"

If she were honest, it was more than knowing the most intimate parts of James and Imogen's relationship that bothered Ginny. Certainly she wished she could unhear her son's use of the Room of Requirement, but she also wasn't näive. They were teenagers, they'd been dating for much longer than most their age, and they certainly had enough alone time at school to get on with messing around. If someone had asked her before this whether or not she thought _that_ was going on, she would have said yes. That Imogen hadn't given in to James (thereby not risking Ginny becoming a grandmother at the age of forty) was more than Ginny could have hoped for.

But the way James had used Imogen's refusal against her had Ginny entirely on edge. Her sweet boy, her gentle boy… he couldn't have changed so much could he? Not her James, who at the age of five had filled a glass of water with all the black pepper in the house, bringing it to Ginny to drink when she was sick. "It's Pepperup Potion, Mum!" he insisted. Not her son, who would stop everything and everyone when his little sister was crying from a scrapped knee until it was tended to. The same boy who, just over two years ago, reprimanded Charlie because his healing of a cursed wound on Ginny's arm had brought pain. She had watched him with Imogen, proud of how gentle and kind and generous he was.

When she saw the memory for herself, the words replaying, Ginny's heart broke with Imogen's. He was grown up. And he wasn't as sweet as she'd always thought. That he could turn around and break that impression she'd had of him shook Ginny to the core.

It was nearly an hour before Harry quietly opened the door, stepping in and closing it behind him. "Well?" Ginny asked. "What did he have to say for himself?"

"Calm down, Ginny," Harry said.

"Don't tell me to calm down," she snapped, starting her pacing route again.

Harry stepped forward grabbing her by the arms. "Ginny, Ginny, I know you're upset."

"You haven't seen upset," Ginny replied. "I have half a mind to jinx his mouth shut for the things he said!"

"Ginny," Harry said again. "He gets it, okay? Apparently he was with George at Gringotts. And he went to visit Lorcan."

Ginny stayed quiet as Harry explained his conversation with James. For one, there was more information on Imogen's current description (James certainly had noticed more than George) and Harry listed off the things Lorcan had said. Ginny's ears pulsed as Harry detailed the dreams Imogen had of her mother and the questions she'd raised about her relationship to her parents. She'd never talked about these things with Ginny.

"So it is my fault," Ginny said after he'd finished.

Harry's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "How did we get there?"

Ginny shook her head, walking over to the papers. It was whatever she could think of that might help them understand why Imogen left. Most of it was collected from Imogen's room. Half of the papers were old essays that Ginny kept in the pile, even though she knew they were useless to what they were trying to do. Many more were owls. Some from Lorcan and other friends over the last couple summers. Still more owls from Dakota, Eben, Leighton, and those they'd known in Australia. Most of them, though, were in a simple black box with blue ribbon filled with all her letters from Harry and Ginny.

"Did you notice that I always sign my letters with my name?"

"Gin, you're losing me here."

She picked one up, touching her own signature at the bottom. "Look, Harry, you started signing your letters _Dad_ and I kept on with _Ginny._ "

"I only did that once _she_ started calling me that," Harry said, pulling the paper from Ginny's hands gently and using a single finger to turn her head towards him. "You're determined to blame yourself with this and you shouldn't."

"I gave up, Harry," she said. "Don't you see? I was _so_ sure that we could make her part of our lives that I forgot she had a life before us."

Harry put a hand on each side of her face. "Stop," he said.

She looked into his kind, green eyes, pressing her lips together. She lifted her hands to his wrists, holding to him like an anchor. "She has a mother, and we stopped looking for her."

Harry let out a sigh. "So what do you want to do?"

"If we find out who her parents are, I think we'll find Imogen."

* * *

Lorcan spent three whole days in his Grandfather Scamander's library. He wasn't sure exactly how to best look up "green light" and had tried every avenue possible: guides, curses, charms, creatures, and so on. He'd even asked his grandfather, though he said that it was far too vague a description to narrow down the possibilities.

Each evening he would grab his tin can and talk into it. Lily had been waiting each time. "Wait a minute while I get somewhere more private," she said the third night. Lorcan waited. It wasn't like he had any more to report than the night before, but Lily always had some suggestion or another. Besides, it was just good to hear that Imogen was still well.

He heard rustling from Lily's end for several minutes. "Alright, in the garden," Lily said quietly. "What do you have?"

"Nothing," Lorcan said with a sigh. "I checked every reference book I could find and there isn't anything like what you described. Has it shown up again?"

"Not that I've seen," Lily replied. "Imogen is still travelling with that group on random train cars. Oh, I wish I could tell James. He'd be so bloody jealous if he knew she was spending every night with three blokes."

Lorcan smiled. Lily was bent on making James suffer. She was indignant when Lorcan told her about James making him take the veritaserum, though Lorcan managed to gloss over his confession concerning her when he talked about it. He'd convinced her that telling James off now would blow their cover, so Lily didn't do anything, but from what Lorcan could tell she still hadn't given up on finding some way to make him pay. "Even he would have to see that they're just people she's travelling with though, right?" Lorcan asked.

"It could go either way," Lily admitted. "James can be a real stubborn prat sometimes." She paused. "Him and my dad talk all the time now. Sometimes a couple people from his staff come over too. They pour over maps every night."

"And your mum?"

"Her and Albus took a portkey for Australia today, actually," Lily said. "She thinks she can find information there."

There was silence for a couple minutes. Finally Lorcan asked, "does it bother you that they're not asking for your help?"

A tinkling laugh echoed in his tin. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Each time we've talked you always say something like that. How do you know exactly what I'm thinking? Even though you're so far away?" Lorcan shrugged—a gesture he kept making, forgetting that Lily couldn't hear this through the tin. Still, she sighed. "I'm only sort of bothered. Mum asked if I would be alright here. Said she could get a portkey for three. I'm just afraid I'm going to burst and break my promise to Imogen if I'm around them too much."

"You're a good friend to her," Lorcan said.

"I just hope I'm doing the right thing as her sister," Lily replied. The words settled between the two of them. "Did you read through the Puddlemere game today, by the way?"

"Dad buys the daily scopes so we see the whole thing! I was gutted!"

Lorcan lost track of how long they talked about Quidditch as it moved into talking about stories of dealing with their various professors. Then, as Lily was telling him about a pranking contest in Gryffindor tower that past April first she stopped abruptly. "—It's none of your business what I'm doing, James! Just sod off!" Another couple minutes of silence before her voice came back. "I better get back in," Lily said. "But, hey, I had a thought! What if you're looking in the wrong library?"

"What do you mean?" Lorcan asked, sitting up on his bed.

"I mean… check with your other grandpa if you get a chance," Lily said. "And if you can, come by floo tomorrow. James is going in with Dad and since the others are gone..."

"Yeah," Lorcan said. "I bet my mum wouldn't mind."

"See you then," Lily said. There was more rustling, then nothing. Lorcan couldn't believe he hadn't checked with Grandpa Lovegood! Right next door too! He'd been taking the floo everyday. Of course Grandpa Lovegood was a little, well, out there. More so than his mum, who Lorcan and Lysander had both learned to take with a grain of salt. Their first year of school, they both dealt with a lot of ridicule when they would mention creatures or superstitions their mother had imparted to them. Their dad talked to them that Christmas break about appreciating their mother for everything she was rather than wishing she were something else, and Lorcan had realized that went for Grandpa Lovegood as well.

Besides, for all the insane things he believed, there were grains of truth in others that the general population ignored. It was one reason Lorcan was interested in the Department of Mysteries. After all, how many creatures were known only to locals before his other Grandfather cataloged them? The world didn't have to be fully proved for truth to exist. And right now, they could use a little bit of truth.

* * *

James came back inside after being sent to check on Lily. She was such a brat, sometimes, but his parents wouldn't hear any of his suspicions that she knew something. They were convinced she was just some poor, innocent little girl who was terribly upset by Imogen's leaving. "She was out in the garden," he told his dad as he came into the kitchen, sitting back down across from him. "I swear I heard her talking to someone. Whispering."

"James—"

"No, Dad, listen," James said. "She's up to something! Can't you just… use the pensieve on her other memories of that night?"

"I've already told you no," Harry said. "And we better not hear of you bothering her about it either or I'll let your mother do whatever she'd like for your punishment. You should know you haven't seen half of what your mum's capable of either."

James believed it. She'd taught him more defensive spells, charms, and curses in the four months he'd spent in Australia with her than he'd learned in the previous four years at Hogwarts. His uncles had shared enough stories as well to make this threat a very real one. Still, James wasn't any less skeptical of Lily. It didn't help that nothing new had surfaced of Imogen's whereabouts since Paris. Still, he looked over the papers and maps that his dad was now bent over. "Do you think she could have made her own portkey?"

"I've been looking through reports on unapproved portkey transport, but nothing seems like it would be her," Harry replied.

"What if…" James trailed off, a half formed thought developing.

"What if what?" Harry looked up at him.

"What if her wandless magic doesn't get tracked the same way? Like… what if it wouldn't come up in the reports?" James asked.

Harry sat back nodding his head. "It's possible, but that makes it all the worse for us, to be honest," he said. James didn't like hearing that. "Hermione hasn't found any reliable sources on wandless human magic either. She's looked at goblins and house elves, who don't use wands, but she's not sure they relate enough to be comparable."

James breathed out. "This is impossible."

"Don't give up," Harry said.

James couldn't see how they were going to find her at this point. Her wand was here and she hadn't taken anything traceable. She may have also changed how she looked again. The only thing that gave him any hope was that she had stated she would be back in her note. She intended on coming back. So long as nothing went wrong in the meantime. That last thought always unsettled him.

* * *

Imogen sat upright from under the tattered blankets she'd collected at the last station. Her eyes darted around, then relaxed, realizing she must have been seeing things again. The vocan orbis hadn't appeared since she made it on the train and she oscillated between wondering if she'd imagined it to begin with or if she'd missed her window of opportunity.

She continued to travel with Ennis's group. That's what she called them anyway. It seemed their leader was heavily dependent on the language spoken by other groups they encountered. If they spoke Italian or Spanish, Paolo took the lead. French was Théo's territory, though he could fumble through German. Large hand gestures or silence took place with any other language. There was an entire network of teenagers riding the trains across Europe. Camps known to these groups were established nearby almost every train depot, though Ennis told Imogen that sometimes they were caught by local authorities and new camps would be established. Almost every place they stopped there would be groups of three or four people. Food was always shared and they tended to sleep knotted up to keep warm at night.

Hal alone seemed an anomaly in this world. He was older than most. Twenty, from what he said. Most of the travellers would stick to the trains until they could go find work without fear of their families taking them home again. Some in less dire circumstances gave up long before then, figuring their homes weren't so bad after all. Hal was here to stay, though, continually calling Imogen "Snow White" and giving her strange looks that made Imogen nervous.

She had proved her place quickly, though. Imogen was particularly good at getting food. Once or twice she discreetly pulled out money when on her own and bought a couple things, ditching packaging in a bin on her way back to camp. When that wasn't possible, she would summon eggs from barns, or, if she was lucky, she'd find patches of edible plants, using engorgement charms to make a decent meal from what she could forage. In just four days, the others declared they ate more regularly with her around than they ever had before.

Imogen sighed, laying back down and turning onto her side. She wouldn't be able to sleep again. _One more day_ , she told herself. Then again, she'd told herself that last night, too. And the night before. Her mother hadn't appeared again and she was torn between going home and waiting for answers. She spent the rest of the night tossing and turning until she heard the others stirring in the morning.

There were several people standing around a makeshift fire pit, trying to start a fire to cook breakfast. The morning dew was particularly damp and Ennis was swearing. "Imogen can do it," she finally said. "Imogen, we need you to start a fire for us again."

This was another area they had realized Imogen's usefulness. Paolo stepped back, sitting beside a pretty Polish girl and groping at her thigh, leaning over to kiss her as Imogen took over fire duties. She leaned down, rearranging the firewood as a pretense for drying the planks in her hands. Imogen arranged them into a pyramid, taking some tinder and placing it at the base. Next, she grabbed a match from Ennis. She hadn't figured how exactly the muggles made them work. They used rocks or the side of the box, so Imogen would hold the tip to a rock, then run it quickly along the surface while sparks from her palm actually did the job. Leaning forward to block anyone else's view she touched the flames to the little dry twigs and encouraged the flames to develop faster than they would other with another spell.

When Imogen finished this morning's fire, she looked up to see Hal, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at her. It was more comfortable looking over to where Paolo and the girl were completely wrapped up in a blanket, snogging for the whole camp to see.

"There you go," Imogen said.

"Magic, I'm telling you," Ennis declared to another member of the group they'd met up with at this camp.

The route they'd taken on the trains was erratic and varied. They'd been through France, Belgium, down to north of Italy, up to Austria, and now they were in Hungary. Ennis talked about staying here for a couple days. Imogen was anxious to get to Belarus, but wasn't even sure that's where she was supposed to go. Did the vocan orbis only appear if she wasn't going where she should? Was she on the right track?

Théo handed her a cup with coffee. It wasn't really coffee. It was more like bitter water that was heated with the dregs of coffee that had once been. The ghost of coffee, Imogen thought.

Imogen wasn't sure what a day without travel looked like for this group, but it soon became apparent. Théo pulled out a pack of muggle playing cards and several people gathered around. Paolo and the girl disappeared after breakfast and Imogen wasn't keen on running into them any time soon. Ennis pulled out a book with the cover missing and pages looking tattered. She said it was just a stupid romance that someone had chucked out, but Imogen noticed this was Ennis's second time reading it.

Hal watched the game going on. Imogen wondered if she needed to get away from the others for the vocan orbis to come back. Quietly, she walked away from the group, taking a basket to scavenge for some good plants while she was at it. She hummed the song her mother sang as she walked up the hill with spotty green grass. Noise died down the farther she was from the group and away from the tracks. At one point, she heard the sounds of kissing and moans and walked in the opposite direction. She'd probably gone a couple miles when she found a little pond in the middle of the forest.

Imogen sat on a rock, taking a deep breath. "Come on," she said, like she might be able to bring the light back by sheer will. "Come on, Mum." Ten minutes passed, then twenty and there was nothing. The sun was out in full force and it was warm. There weren't many chances to bathe out here and the camps around lakes were very public areas. She wondered at what point most people let that go and did what they wanted. Ennis didn't have any qualms about going nude and bare breasted in front of crowds as she dove into the water and cleaned herself.

Imogen took the chance now. She looked around and stripped down to her underclothes. She dipped her legs into the pond, leaning down and cupping water into her hands. She scrubbed dirt from her skin the best she could, dipping further into the shallow water and washing her arms, torso, and then pouring handfuls of water over her head, wetting her hair, which had become greasy the past few days. She closed her eyes humming.

"Wondered when you'd give in, Snow White."

Imogen's eyes shot open and she looked over to where Hal stood, an eyebrow raised. He had a smirk and Imogen wondered how long he'd been watching. Or how he knew she was here. "Don't!" she shouted, reaching for her shirt to cover more of herself.

"Fine," he said, turning around and holding up his hands. "Not looking."

Imogen stumbled up the bank, grabbing her clothes and getting dressed. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," he said, still with his back towards her. She put on her last shoe. "Just thought I'd come have a chat."

Imogen huffed. "I'm dressed now," she said irritably. "I just wanted an hour alone, is that so wrong?"

Hal turned back around, clearly amused. "No, not at all."

"Why did you want to chat?" she demanded.

"I know what you are," Hal said.

Imogen swallowed. She didn't want to say anything in case he meant something else, but she had been sure he was watching as she started the fire this morning. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said. She hadn't learned to lie in the last few days, though.

Hal gave a single scoffing laugh. "Alright, Snow White."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Imogen snapped. He'd said her real name maybe twice since she'd joined them.

"The way you reacted when Paolo kissed you," Hal said. "You'd never been kissed before, had you?"

Imogen glared at him. She had. Plenty. But Imogen refused to tell him about James. Besides the fact that she supposedly hadn't left anyone behind, thinking of James and his last words still hurt. Every kiss they'd ever shared no longer seemed unblemished after his accusations.

"Then there's this virginal modesty routine. You're in a different world now, Snow White. If you're not going to walk around smelling like a pile of dung all the time, you should probably get over it."

"Just tell me what you came to say," she said.

He leaned forward. "I know what you are." He held one hand low and in front of himself. He stretched his fingers, flexing and contracting though he was still watching Imogen. Little green lights seemed to be pulled from the environment around them, coming together into the shape of the orb she had seen.

Imogen's eyes widened as she looked between Hal, and the light he held floating above his hand. "You're a wizard!" she exclaimed.

He was still smiling. "No, I'm a gypsy," he said. He dropped his hand and the orb disappeared. "And so are you."


	6. Three Gifts

_**Three Gifts**_

"You were the one who made the vocan orbis?" Imogen asked. Answers! Hal had answers! She could find out everything! "What about my mum? Do you know where she is?"

"Vo-what?" Hal looked at her like she was an idiot.

"What you just did there," Imogen pointed towards his hands. "Vocan orbis."

Hal rolled his eyes. "If you've been looking things up in wizarding books, they have it all wrong. I sent a call out to you."

"A call?"

"It summons a person you're looking for."

"So why didn't you tell me about this days ago?"

Hal leaned against a tree, folding his arms. He had that same look as that first night on the train, the one that seemed as though he was sizing her up. "I wasn't sure you're the one I sent for. Look, it's a lot to explain, but we have a few days before we get back to the clan anyway."

"The what?"

Hal let out an exasperated breath. "We just have to get going. So let's get back to the camp and let them know we're off." He turned around and took a steady pace.

Imogen waited for a minute, thinking through what he just said. Of everyone, Hal made her most nervous. Paolo came in second, though she'd gotten used to him by now.

"No time to waste, Snow White," he shouted behind him, continuing.

 _This was why you came in the first place_ , Imogen reminded herself as she bent down to grab the basket and follow. She ran her hand through her hair, using a spell to finish cleaning and drying it before she trotted after Hal.

No one seemed surprised when they said they were going. "Good luck to you," Ennis said, still sitting back against a tree trunk with her book in hand. Paolo and his girl were back, no longer wrapped around each other. Whatever they'd been doing—and Imogen thought she had a pretty good idea—they would leave with their groups tomorrow without a care in the world. Imogen thought of James and whether he would have dismissed her so easily. His words rang in her mind as a painful reminder that he had. If only she could forget about him so easily.

Hal lead Imogen as they made their way back to the trainyard. Théo gave them a rundown of the schedule for the next two hours. "We aren't taking another train," Hal said when they were out of range.

"Then why are we going this way?"

"It's the best place to make and follow a call. Mind you, we still have a two day hike or so once we get close, so I hope you're ready for that."

"I'm confused," Imogen said. "Follow—"

"A call, yes," Hal replied. "It's becoming quite obvious no one ever told you about this." He stopped and looked at her. "The gran story was horse shit wasn't it?"

Imogen swallowed. "It happened to a friend of mine."

"And your parents never told you they were Gypsies?"

"My parents died when I was eleven. We were all kept under the Imperius Curse so I don't remember anything before they died. They may have told me. "

Hal's look of incredulity turned to one Imogen wasn't sure how to interpret. Sympathy, perhaps, or understanding. Something almost crestfallen. "That explains a lot. And they lived in London when they died?"

"No," she said. "I had a family who took me in for a while."

"Are they looking for you?"

"Maybe," she answered honestly. After leaving Paris it took two days before she felt she had succeeded in avoiding any more notice from the Wizarding world. It helped that she was travelling with muggles. But perhaps they had given up on her. She was almost of age, after all. They had no reason to waste time and energy on her.

"Well they're shit outta luck once we get to where we're going."

"Where _are_ we going?"

Hal looked around, taking a breath and scratching his head. "Maybe you do need to know some things before we go," he said. He grabbed her by the elbow and guided her into the protection of the trees. He found a large rock and let go of Imogen as he sat. "First, don't trust what you know from wizards and never default to that around Gypsies. Whatever spells you know, they don't call them the same thing."

"But they are witches and wizards, right?"

"They have magic, if that's what you mean. But they don't consider themselves that and it would be an insult if you said so," Hal said. "They make their own wands and live in their own society."

"You don't need a wand, though."

"No, _you_ don't need a wand. You're a caster." Imogen rubbed at her forehead, confused. "Gypsies… they don't all have magic. But it's better to be without magic as a Gypsy than as a wizard. There's this whole hierarchy among wizards, part of which means that if someone is born without magic, they're outcasts. Squibs. Not with the Gypsies. Magic and non-magic work together in large clans, building their own colonies. Most of them have at least the basic magic skills, but in some families runs a… brand of magic. You're a caster. You don't need a wand to use your magic, which also generally affords you more control and less restrictions than what wizards have to abide by."

Imogen thought of instances of surprise from McGonagall during their lessons and the times when she had tried to explain to James and Ginny what it was like when she was doing wandless magic. It was like she could sense the world by how it felt beneath her hands, manipulating the matter around her. There were times she did things she didn't even realize. When Fritz died, her emotions seemed to bleed out of her in an instant, and when she wailed for the battle around her to end, it did. Those they had fought were released from the Imperius Curse controlling their actions. Imogen nodded that she understood. At least, she was getting a better idea. "And that makes you—"

"A caller," Hal replied. "Like my mother. She raised my sister and me in the highlands and taught us both how to use it."

"The vocan orbis?"

"That's an obnoxious name, stop using it," Hal demanded. "They're calls. Callers are able to consider the person they want to summon and send a call in their direction. It's a form of transport, too, so I can make a call that will take us as close to the Gypsy colony as possible."

"Transport? But… each time I got close the… call… it would leave."

"Did you touch it?" Imogen nodded and Hal scoffed. "Why didn't you use your magic?"

It suddenly seemed like the obvious thing to try, but Imogen just clenched her teeth together and huffed. "It's not like anyone gave me instructions for the strange green light that showed up."

"Well, Snow White, you could have saved yourself and me a lot of hassle if you'd figured it out. That's why I didn't know if it was you or not. The call only works for the person it's intended for. Touching it is what a muggle would try, so it disappears when that happens."

"How did you know who I was to make the call work?"

"I didn't have to know who you were, though it's easier if you know the person. The seer told me what she wanted and I travelled until I could sense it close enough to send a call. I was in Northern France for a few weeks trying to get you."

"What's a seer and what does she want with me?"

"A seer is what it sounds like. It's someone who can perceive what others cannot. The one who sent me is Sabina. She's sensed you the last few years and felt it was time you joined the clan."

"Why?"

Hal looked away from her and shrugged. "I just followed orders," he said, looking back at her.

Imogen was trying to take this all in. Caster, caller, seer… she could keep that straight. "And what about my mum?" she asked, looking back at him. Her heart pounded. A bridge between life and death, the book had said. Was her mother waiting for them with this clan?

"What about her? I thought you said she was dead?"

"She came to me in dreams," Imogen said. "She… the call… it became her. She sang to me."

"Well then I was wrong," Hal said, leaning back and considering what she just said. "Only your father was a Gypsy."

"How do you know that?"

"The calls use influencers—people you're thinking of that might convince you to follow—but it can't use Gypsies. Living or dead."

"Why not?"

"Not sure, actually," Hal admitted. "It just doesn't happen."

There was a strange mix of excitement and sadness in the information for Imogen. She didn't realize how much stock she'd placed on finding her mother, but it was almost like losing her all over again. Still, she hadn't known anything about her parents and now she was headed back to where her father was from. If not directly, then the home of his people.

"So we're going back to Belarus," Imogen said after digesting everything.

"Belarus? Why on earth would we go to Belarus?"

"In the book it said the origins of vocan orbis started—"

" _Calls_ are a Gypsy gift and the origins of the Gypsies don't follow the boundaries of modern cartography. You have to stop believing everything you read."

Imogen would have to get used to not saying terms until she learned them from Hal. She could only hope there was someone nicer that could help her with this when they got to wherever they were going.

"Now that you've had a primer," Hal said, pushing himself to his feet, "it's time to go. There will be time to answer any other questions you have on the way."

* * *

Lorcan stumbled into the Potter's living room, catching himself on the edge of their couch as books tumbled from his arms.

"You alright?" Lily asked, standing from one of the armchairs and diving down to help pick everything up.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good," he said, feeling his face heat up. Lorcan spent the whole morning at his grandfather's house next door.

As opposed to Grandpa Scamander (who'd declared the information insufficient), Grandpa Lovegood scanned the shelves, pulling one book after another. "It might be a Swaying Sorcan or possibly a Heavenly Halo, which is a great sign of luck." This went on for a while until Lorcan told him thank you and ducked out before he could overload him. When he got back to his room, Lorcan divided out the books that had some promise and checked with Lily that he was okay to come over.

"What's Imogen been up to today?"

"She's spending time with that dark haired bloke," Lily said. There was an unsteadiness to her voice and Lorcan wondered if, for all her talk, Lily would be upset if things didn't work out between Imogen and her brother. "They've been talking and walking around the woods."

"More of the same?"

"Seems like," Lily said. "I'm more interested if you found out anything."

"Lots, but I'm afraid it won't be useful," Lorcan said.

"Let's do this in my room," Lily said. "If someone comes home early, it will be easy enough for you to hide in my closet."

Lorcan didn't argue, but could already imagine Ginny opening the closet door to find him in there. He saw only the potential for apocalyptic consequences, even though Lily seemed completely unconcerned. Her room was a vivid green with yellow curtains. There were posters plastered all over the place, some of bands, others of various Quidditch players and teams—almost all of those ones were signed.

"You have a signed poster of Howard Nettles?" Lorcan said in awe.

"Yeah," Lily said. "My mum writes for the whole league, remember?"

"Oh, right," Lorcan responded. He loved his parents, but neither of them had a job with cool benefits like complete access to the entire roster of Quidditch players. "Your room colors for the Harpies?"

"Of course," Lily said. "I keep going back and forth on whether I'll do a trial after I graduate. It'd be cool to be on the team like Mum, but it's supposed to be nearly impossible."

"You could do it," Lorcan said.

"It would also be a lot of pressure, to be honest. Kind of like James trying to be an auror. Who knows. Maybe I'll just go with my backup plan of stripping." Lorcan's head turned quickly to Lily, who was looking out of the corner of her eye with a smirk. His face went hot for the second time and looked away. "I'm joking, Lorcan! Loosen up a little."

He tried to smile, but by the way she laughed, his smile didn't hide his prior shock at what she said. "Um, should we look through the books?"

They both settled onto Lily's bed—Lily laying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows with her legs up in the air from the knee, ankles crossed. Lorcan tried to keep as much distance in case someone did come in and see them together. Each grabbed different books and sat in silence, flipping through pages of information, only talking when they came onto something that might be useful. "Wait! Here!" Lily exclaimed. "Oh, no… sorry, this is just a fairylights spell for garden parties."

"Well, this one is a lantern spell," Lorcan brought up nearly half an hour later. "But it's meant to be stationary, not to move."

Lily blew her hair out of her eyes, then flipped dramatically on her back, letting the book she had just finished with drop to the ground. She reached into her pocket, pulling out the mirror and holding it above her face at arm's length. "Do you think Peregrine might be able to find her? If I sent an owl?"

"Maybe," Lorcan replied. He adjusted himself so that he was laying the opposite direction as Lily, but his head was next to hers, looking at the mirror. Imogen was walking through woods, it looked like. She would say something occasionally. Lorcan recognized the expression that followed these moments of talking. Imogen's mouth was set straight, eyes focused at some unknown spot in front of her, and her head tilted just slightly. She was taking in new information. Understanding something. It was the same look she wore a lot when they first were getting to know each other and Lorcan was explaining a principle or spell to her. Lorcan turned his head, watching as Lily watched the mirror. He swallowed. Their faces were so close. His heart suddenly raced, though Lily didn't seem to notice.

"I think I'll try," Lily said. "Maybe she'll be ready to tell me what she's looking for."

Lorcan opened his mouth to reply when Lily bolted upright. "The book!" she shouted.

It took a moment for Lorcan to recover, propping himself up on his elbows. "What book?"

"I can't believe I didn't think of it! I saw it when Mum was going through her room," Lily said. She jumped off her bed and Lorcan followed as she dashed from her room. He was slower, taking the corners slowly, just in case someone had come back without hearing them. Lily flew into Imogen's bedroom. Lorcan followed, closing the door behind them. "It's got to be in here! She moved it to her nightstand after I calmed her down and we did other things."

Lily opened random drawers and looked over different surfaces of the furniture. As she started on the desk she squealed, pulling one book out from the end of a row that lined the wall behind the desk. The title was _Known/Unknown_. Lorcan reached out and Lily handed him the book. Flipping through the front pages, it looked like an examination of types of magic that had been named and legitimized, but had been seen rarely enough there was limited information. He held onto the block of pages, flipping until it opened at a page where a card had been stuck as a bookmark. There were three different spells described, but when he got to a short one on something called _Vocan Orbis_ , Locan looked up at Lily, eyes a little wider. He turned the book to Lily, pointing out the passage.

"That's it!" she said triumphantly. "Except… is that all there is?"

"Yeah, but now we know what we're actually looking for," said Lorcan, taking back the book. He flipped the page and there was a loud pop from the living room.

"Lily?"

They both froze for a moment before Lily pushed Lorcan down and shoved him under Imogen's bed.

* * *

"Lily?" James called from the living room, exasperated. His dad and the auror staff were going to lunch at the Leaky Cauldron and he was sent back to take care of Lily. He'd tried to point out that she was fifteen and should be able to manage a sandwich on her own, but his dad said there were matters they needed to discuss without James, and he was sent back anyways. He started down towards Lily's room. "Lily, what do you want for lunch?"

"I was just going to heat some leftovers," Lily said from behind him.

James turned around, seeing Lily closing Imogen's door behind her. His eyes narrowed. "What were you doing in there?"

"None of your business," she snapped at him.

His mom had taken a couple days before she came around completely. The first morning she had made breakfast for everyone except him. Dinner too. James didn't argue or say anything, but just made his own food and tried to be helpful around the house. She eventually softened. Lily hadn't. She brought up what he'd said and insulted him every chance she got. It didn't bother James, though. He was too preoccupied trying to figure out what she was hiding. He still had the veritaserum. Maybe if he just slipped a little into her drink at lunch…

"You shouldn't be in there."

"Who said?" Lily said. She walked into the kitchen, her nose literally in the air after giving him a snide huff.

James watched as she disappeared, then looked over to Imogen's door. He hadn't been in there since the night he'd yelled at her. His parents had pulled everything that seemed pertinent, but James hadn't seen it for himself. He walked over, opening up the door. It looked the same as when she'd been here—the floral comforter with little blue and gold flowers entwined with green ivy was untouched, as if someone had just made the bed that morning. The pillows were haphazardly thrown against the headboard, making it look lived in. The books had been shuffled through a bit and James wondered why Lily thought she'd find something there.

Going over to the desk, he flipped through one book after another until he got to a photo album. Lily gave this one to Imogen, if he remembered right. Imogen rarely bought anything for herself, in fact. She was generally content with whatever she had, but he remembered her talking about getting an album for her photographs and Lily insisting she wait. Lily and James argued over who got to buy it for her for Christmas. They finally settled on Lily buying the album and James got Imogen a camera to go with it. The latter of the the items sat on the shelf just above the desk.

James took the album, walked over to Imogen's bed, and sat back against the headboard, crossing his legs and flipping through. There were lots of pictures he hadn't even seen, but what struck him was how many were of him and Imogen. There were others, too. Pictures she took with Lily, a couple of Albus playing chess or waving in a humoring sort of way, and a handful of images with Ravenclaw friends were tipped into the album as well, but by far there were more of James with his arms around her and Imogen holding out the camera. When he came to one where he was laughing and Imogen stood behind him, arms wrapped around his chest and nose touching his cheek. She kept leaning in, kissing him.

James tried to remember when they took this picture. It was before exams, before his jealousy ramped up when she would study or work with Lorcan instead of sneaking to a private area of Hogwarts with him. He traced the shape of her face with his fingertip, wishing he could tell her now what an idiot he'd been.

"I thought you said we shouldn't be in there," Lily shouted from the living room, carrying a plate of food.

James shut the album, looking up and glaring at her. "I said you shouldn't be in here," James clarified. He stood, carrying the album with him. He'd keep it in his room. "What were you looking for anyway?"

"Nothing," Lily said. "I just miss her, alright? Like I said, it's not your business anyway."

"I'm going to figure out what you're up to, Lily. Just you wait."

Lily scoffed and rolled her eyes, going back to her room with her lunch. James scowled after her, went to his own room to put up the album, and apparated back to Diagon Alley. He'd rather have lunch with Uncle George. He just had to avoid his dad in the process.

* * *

"Do children always inherit their parent's gift? Or can a child of a seer be a caller?" Imogen asked.

"The same gift is passed, if it's inherited at all," Hal replied. He was leading them through the woods. Imogen didn't know how he knew where he was going. To her, everything since he'd created the call to transport them looked the same: a dense forest of trees. "Sometimes children don't get the gift, though they'll have magic."

"What about if both parents have different gifts?"

"You know, I thought… she's awfully quiet… she won't bother me. You're far more chatty than you let on," Hal responded. "If it's two Gypsies with different gifts, you inherit one of them, but never both."

Imogen mulled over the information for a while. She had never in her life been called chatty. The last time she'd come close to asking this many questions was when she first went to Hogwarts, and those were usually aimed at Lorcan, who was more patient (and, really, just plain nicer) than Hal. When it came to getting around the place she didn't have to ask at all. James spent every spare moment dragging her around like a hyperactive tour guide. She knew more about Hogwarts and its various passages in two weeks than others found out in two years there.

Hal was the only one she could ask right now, though. They'd been walking for three hours and she'd found out a lot. Gypsy colonies were located throughout Eastern Europe and far from other society. There were wide swaths of land that were protected by ancient Gypsy magic. They couldn't apparate in. They couldn't even use a call, unless the leader of the clan helped create it. Hal showed Imogen exactly how to use her magic to transport, should she ever encounter a call on her own again as well.

Then she asked a lot of questions about how one received their gift. Apparently gifts manifest themselves around the age of four, though Hal didn't have any details what this actually looked like. It wasn't like traditional magic either, where children had uncontrolled moments of exhibition. Instead it was a steady build.

The last thing Hal said about parents having the same gifts as their children had her confused, though. She tried to think through it on her own, not wanting to be called chatty again. But she couldn't work it out. "My father couldn't have been a caster though," she finally said.

"What do you mean?" Hal asked. Like with every other part of their conversation, he kept walking without turning around.

"Where I grew up, in that compound, there was a barrier that kept everyone in," Imogen said. The memory she had dreamed started flashing through her mind in bits and pieces. Her father being caught, her mother as well. The way they fell. "Usually a wand was the only thing that could get someone through safely. I was able to get through because of my gift. It didn't affect me. But... " she swallowed. "But that's how my papa died. If he had the gift he would have gone through too."

Hal actually stopped, one hand on a thin trunk and turned back towards Imogen. "Did he ever use the gift before that?"

"I told you, I don't remember anything before then," Imogen replied.

"Well, there's a… theory," Hal said. For the first time since they started walking, he looked interested. "It's not done often, but one person with a gift can pass on their gift to someone else."

"Pass on?"

"Even Gypsies don't talk about it much. Don't talk about it with anyone else, in fact, but if a parent wanted to give up their gift to strengthen their child's, it's supposed to be possible. Actually, there are rumors that it can be passed to anyone who doesn't have a conflicting gift, but that's only temporarily if that's true at all."

"My papa might have given me his gift?" Imogen asked.

Hal nodded.

This was a terrible thing to know. Imogen almost wished she hadn't asked it. If her papa did give Imogen his gift, then him and her mother had died because of Imogen. There was only one other time Imogen went through that barrier. It was the day the group she lived with went back to the compound to free everyone still left there. Imogen and James weren't supposed to go, but had managed to tag along by using the Potter's invisibility cloak. When they made it to the barrier that time, Imogen's casting gift had opened a wide doorway for them to walk through safely. If her father had kept the gift, they would all be alive now.

Hal still watched her, but didn't say anything. Imogen looked at him, swallowed back developing tears, and walked on, heading the same direction Hal seemed to have been going before. He didn't take long before he was in stride, walking beside her. "You know, the Imperius Curse doesn't block memories," he said. "That's one reason it's difficult to determine whether someone acted of their own volition or not."

"How do you know that?" Imogen asked. She didn't want to believe it. Ever since Mrs. Gertrude in Australia had nursed her back to health, she had believed that was why she didn't remember her life. Of all the new things she learned today, she didn't want to know if that was true and especially what it implied.

"Because my mum also taught us wizarding magic," he said. "We studied from home."

"Well, then it was something else they did to us at the compound so we couldn't remember."

"Or maybe your parents didn't want you to remember," Hal said.

"No," Imogen said firmly.

"Come on, you seem fairly intelligent. You can't think of why they may have needed you to forget?"

"Stop," Imogen warned him. The first tears dropped down her cheek.

"After all the questions today and that's your limit for facts?"

"Shut it!" she turned on him, shouting. Hal stopped walking.

"Fine," he said. "I just thought you might like to know."

He passed her and they walked in silence. He had some bread that he handed to Imogen at some point in the afternoon while they continued. It wasn't until the sun was dipping down along the horizon that Hal told Imogen they needed to look for a spot to camp. They walked around the area until they found a bush of wild berries near a clearing. He pulled out his wand, tucked safely in a small pocket along the left leg of his trousers, and pushed around the leaves with a spell to make a couple cushioned areas for them. Imogen helped out by making a pit and fire for them to use.

"There's a lake a couple hundred yards north," he said. "I'll go catch us some fish."

Imogen didn't look at him or reply, but Hal didn't wait for her to. She fiddled with the fire for a while, then magicked a shallow basket out of the twigs in the area, going around the bushes to find the ripest berries for them to eat. Hal came back less than an hour later and pulled a small pan from his sack to cook. Imogen appreciated the fact that they didn't have to hide their magic anymore, being able to share a cup and continually refill it with water without trips to the lake.

The fire crackled as Imogen set the cup between her and Hal, wiping her hands on her jeans before pulling her knees into her, watching the embers.

"There's a myth that goes along with the gifts," Hal finally said, breaking the silence. Imogen didn't look at him or speak, but kept watching the flames. "The start of the gifts was with a Gypsy mother and her two daughters. The mother was a seer, able to know things others did not. Her daughters were both beautiful and young, but it wasn't enough for them. They wanted gifts to rival their mother's so that people would see their value, even as they aged.

"The first daughter, a very social young woman, wanted a way to stay in touch with everyone she knew. Her mother gave her the gift of calling. She would send calls through all the Gypsy communities."

Imogen noticed the flames take shape. She looked over where Hal was moving his wand lazily, its tip pointed at the fire. When she looked back, there was a woman, creating a call like the one Hal had done earlier. Then another. Then another.

"She threw the greatest festivals, using the transport to bring Gypsies from around the world back to the homeland. She would be known for keeping unity among the clans.

"The second—" another woman appeared in place of the first "—desired the respect of wizards _and_ Gypsies. She wanted magic that could only be imagined by others. Her mother gave her the ability to control the world around her." This second woman appeared in a field, pointing her hands at various trees, moving them into different locations, then towards a bird, that flew down and perched on her finger. "She travelled far and wide, using great judgement in providing solutions that did not exist without her limitless magic.

"There was a stipulation, though," Hal said. The two girls appeared on either side of an older figure. "They must pay tribute to their mother, and their children after them, and their children's children. The gifts would continue, but the generations to come must remember the one who gave it to them."

The figures all disappeared and Hal stopped talking. Crickets chirped in place of the story. "Or what?" Imogen finally asked quietly.

"Or nothing," Hal said. "It's just a story. No one knows who the first Gypsy with a gift was." He stood up, stretching out. "We got farther than I thought we would. Get a good night sleep and we may make it by tomorrow night."

Imogen stood and pulled the blanket from her bag. Now that it was just the two of them, she repaired some of the worst holes. They both adjusted the beds of leaves. It was more comfortable than Imogen would have imagined as she pulled more leaves over to build up a larger pillow. They were both settled in, the fire dying down. "I'm sorry about your parents," Hal whispered. "I lost my mum, too."


	7. Cousins

_**Cousins**_

Ginny and Albus were on their second day sifting through the bureaucracy at the Ministry in Australia. The afternoon before had gotten them nowhere. Dakota, who still lived with Mrs. Gertrude and was going through a healer training program in Melbourne, took the day off to help. "Maybe as a citizen I can make requests you can't," she suggested. Ginny was grateful for whatever help they could get.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give you that information," a triple chinned man with oversized glasses told them. The plate on his desk read Newman Fuller, Head of Records. This was their fourth department overall. Law Enforcement referred them to Registration, who turned them over to the Department of Muggle Relations (Ginny could only assume this was because the compound was owned by a Muggle businessman) and finally here, to a subdepartment of Law Enforcement: the Hall of Records. "The documentation you are requesting is highly classified."

Leonard Godfrey, who had used his muggleborn brother's magic to create a business enterprise, was arrested by the Australian government. This was only after decades of paying off many Ministry officials, only to have the compound finally infiltrated by the New Zealand Auror department. Somehow Australia was still able to do the investigation themselves, keeping (and now containing) all official documents kept by Godfrey. Ginny could only assume this meant all the births, and possibly deaths, that happened at the compound. It still wasn't much of a lead, but it was as good as they had.

"I am requesting the record on behalf of Imogen Dahl, who I hold guardianship over _and_ who was born in the compound," Ginny said, pushing forward the official paperwork proving as much. As many of the documents that would normally be required for guardianship were still being searched for at the compound, Harry had pulled some strings to get this through. They never did get around to finding other documents for Imogen.

"Is Miss Dahl present then?" Fuller asked, examining the paperwork closely.

"No, she isn't, but—"

"Then I can't help you."

"Then I would like to request the records on my behalf. I lived in the compound for about a decade. Dakota Crewe."

"I can give you limited access," Fuller said. He shuffled through a file on his desk, pulling out a paper. "If you fill out this form, then we can owl copies to you in three weeks."

"That's not soon enough," Dakota complained.

"Well, Miss Crewe, we have to sort through the papers and see which are pertinent to you—"

"How is this not a public record?" Ginny demanded. She felt anger rising in her. After everything the Australian Ministry had done to cover up what had happened to hundreds of innocent wizards and witches in their country, this was the last straw. "People who have family missing have a right to look through this and see if there is anything on them!"

"I don't make the rules, Mrs. Potter," he said, looking back down at the guardianship paperwork to check her name. "This is confidential—"

"No it's not," Albus interrupted him. He flipped through a small notebook he had carried around the past week. Ginny hadn't been sure what he was writing down, but he brought a book of laws that Hermione sent him. Albus had poured over it as they stood in every queue and as they had dinner with Dakota and Mrs. Gertrude the night before. Ginny figured he hadn't been interested in the conversation, which mainly consisted of the three women catching up, but apparently he had some purpose in his work. "According to the international wizarding code 10-802.b, _no country is allowed to withhold documentation pertaining to wizards or witches of international communities, including, but not exclusive to, the births, deaths, or marriages of citizens. Such records should be free and open to the public._ "

Albus looked up at Fuller who was dumbfounded. Ginny, herself, blinked in surprise.

"Well, yes, but I don't believe the intent—"

"The intent was to ensure transparency in cases such as this. If I remember correctly, the Australian Ministry avoided a lot of embarrassing question after Godfrey was arrested, including an arrangement to not be investigated by the International Wizengamot under the circumstances that they provided full and complete care of those who had lived at the compound."

"Which the Australian Ministry complied to by pouring nearly a million galleons into efforts to—"

"To take care of the physical needs of those displaced, sure," Albus said. "But as this was only a few years ago, I would imagine a dozen or so victims coming forward to the I.W. would bring your compliance, or lack thereof, to the attention of every media outlet worldwide, and an investigation to boot. You don't want that, do you?"

Fuller cleared his throat. His face was bright red and his lips were pressed together. "Let me see what I can do for you," he said, pushing back from his desk.

He made his way down a wide hallway, entering a door on the right. Ginny looked at Dakota who was turned away, covering her mouth, barely stifling laughter. Then she looked at Albus. He stood, seventeen and unabashed as he flipped through his notes, loading up his next argument. "Bravo," Ginny said. He had always been an astute child, but she was still stunned and impressed.

"Well, his whole line was complete bollocks."

"Language, Albus," Ginny said, turning to face forward again, adjusting her jacket. "But yes. It was."

Twenty minutes later Ginny, Albus, and Dakota each carried two boxes filled with papers in hand. Ginny suggested they take the bus back to Mrs. Gertrude. When they arrived, she already had something of a feast laid out. Back when there were around a dozen people living here, Mrs. Gertrude took care of almost all the cooking. Ginny could tell she hadn't gotten used to the numbers being pared to her and Dakota. In fact, Ginny couldn't help but wonder if Dakota stayed as much for Mrs. Gertrude as for the convenience of a place to live while attending school.

They adjusted the plates, Albus digging into the food as they sorted through the paperwork. "Do you think they really gave us everything?" Dakota asked.

"I hope so," Ginny sighed. "Or at least what we need. I really don't want to go back."

"Don't worry," Albus said, pulling out a stack of papers. "I have about five more laws to throw at them."

Dakota threw back her head, laughing. Albus tried to suppress a smile, turning pink.

When they were halfway through the first box, Dakota found file after file of birth records. They gathered around her as she scanned each page carefully.

"Skip to the year Imogen was born," Ginny said after the second page, seeing the dates in the far left column.

"Of course," Dakota said.

"August twenty-ninth," Ginny said. "Or there abouts."

Dakota's finger went down the page. "Here!" she shouted as they came across the line. "Imogen! August twenty-ninth at 4:52 in the afternoon."

Everything was handwritten at a sloppy, slanted angle. "No last name?"

"No, but who else could it be?"

"They don't have parent names either," Albus pointed out. "Just their nationalities."

Dakota nodded her head. "Obviously if they were born there, they didn't have outside connections and he probably wanted to keep it that way. Even if they had grandparents, those grandparents wouldn't know about them."

"British," Ginny said, pointing to the word written under _Mother's Nationality_. Next to _Father's Nationality_ there was a simple question mark. "Why wouldn't they have the father's nationality?"

"If it were out here I would guess the father was unknown in general," Dakota said. "But even if there had been more than one possibility, Godfrey and his staff would have known. Or been able to figure out. Or for that matter, they would have defaulted to an assigned husband."

Dakota was right, but that didn't make the question mark make any more sense. And that her mother was from Britain didn't help either. As Harry was so quick to point out, Imogen had gone to France. It was painfully close to a week since Imogen left, which meant she could be almost anywhere now, even with the most rudimentary muggle forms of transportation. Perhaps it wasn't her mother she was trying to find. Who knew, though… there had been others from the compound who arrived with siblings, like Taylor, or friends that they'd been on the street with before being conned and manipulated into going. It was a long shot, but if Imogen's parents knew each other before, they might still figure out where Imogen had gone through researching her mother. They sifted through only a few more things before having a final meal with Dakota and Mrs. Gertrude, then headed back to England.

* * *

In the morning, Imogen insisted on a chance to bathe in the lake, making Hal promise to stay behind. She still put up a few spells to block onlookers as she got herself more clean than she had in days.

"Really, is that necessary?" Hal asked. Imogen was scrubbing her legs when he came to the edge of the lake.

"Obviously," Imogen shouted back. "I thought you said you'd wait back at the camp for me."

"You're taking too long," he snapped.

Imogen finished up quickly, getting out of the lake and drying herself off. She needed to do laundry badly, but she pulled out the least dirty shirt and shorts to wear, then got rid of the floating curtains that had blocked her from Hal's view.

"Finally ready, Snow White?"

Imogen asked far fewer questions as they walked. It seemed never ending, though Imogen mostly felt that way when she was particularly hungry around mid day. They found a fruit tree, both of them gathered an armful, eating while they walked.

"Not a whole lot longer," Hal said just before dusk.

He sounded as worn out as Imogen felt. It was also getting dark, which made Imogen doubt whether it was accurate that they were almost there.

Imogen stopped, leaning against a tree to catch a breath. She was wiping sweat from her face when someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed and Hal turned around. Two men emerged from the trees by Hal. She turned enough to see the large, burly man with a wand, grasping her wrists and twisting her arms behind her.

"What the hell?!" Hal shouted at him. The other two held onto his arms, but he wasn't fighting the same way as Imogen, who tried to kick and pull free.

"Who is dis?" the man behind her asked. His voice was gravelly and harsh. He pulled at Imogen's arm and she whimpered, looking at Hal, though his focus was still on the man.

"The girl Sabina asked for."

"She does not look right," he said.

"I don't care, I said it's who Sabina wanted, so could you lay off her? Seriously, look how small she is. Do you really need to do that?"

The man huffed, but let Imogen's arms half free, holding tight to her wrists. "Ve vill see," he snarled. He pushed Imogen forward and Hal shrugged off the other two to walk beside her.

"It will be fine," Hal whispered, though Imogen didn't feel reassured. If this was how they received people who were being sought, she wondered how intruders were handled.

They must have been very close to the colony, because little shanty houses and tents were all around as they were pushed forward. Little children stopped, whispering to each other as they passed. In the center arena was a large bonfire with logs littering the space, some occupied by Gypsies. Ringing the edges was a caravan of brightly colored wagons. To the north were several horses. The way they edged along one area Imogen figured there was a spell fencing them in.

From the largest wagon, set along the west side of the circle, came a small, bony woman. Her hair was a frizzy grey, thick and large. She wore every color Imogen could imagine, from her multi-colored skirt, to the lime green shirt, covered by a purple vest, and topped with a golden shawl around her shoulders. "I vas starting to sink you vould not return," the woman said.

"I told you I'd be back, Sabina," Hal said lazily.

Another body came running from the wagon. She had black, curly hair and couldn't have been much older than Imogen. "Hal!" she shouted. "Hal, you're back!" She had a Scottish accent, much like his. She darted passed Sabina, who was busy examining Imogen, and threw herself around his neck. Hal smiled wrapping his arms around her too, then pulled her back, examining her face.

Imogen looked at them from the corner of her eye, her attention divided between their reunion and Sabina. The woman came closer to her, foggy green eyes wide. Sabina reached out a wrinkled hand, grabbing at Imogen's face. She turned it to various angles.

"He brought ze wrong one," the man, still holding onto Imogen's wrists, spat.

"Vhy do you say dat?" Sabina asked.

"You told him the caster vould be light," he said.

"You vere alvays so simple," Sabina replied. She was looking into Imogen's eyes. "Vat is your name?"

"Imogen," she replied. "Imogen Dahl." The men near Hal exchanged a dark look.

Sabina kept her focus on Imogen, though. "Show yourself, child."

Imogen looked over to Hal. He was still holding the girl, looking at Imogen with an intensity she hadn't seen from him. He nodded. Imogen closed her eyes, twisting her right hand uncomfortably behind her until she was able to remove the changes she made to herself back in London.

There was a collective gasp and the man let go of her, though Sabina's wrinkled hands were still on her face. Imogen opened her eyes, looking around. She hadn't noticed so many people surrounding them before. "Zair," Sabina said. Her smile was toothy and there was a glint in her eye that was much younger than the rest of her. "It is ze girl!" she shouted, looking around. "Start ze feast!"

There was an uproar of cheers and excitement from those around her. Hal walked towards Imogen and Sabina, the girl attached to his side. He was smiling. "I guess I should have figured, Snow White," Hal said. "This is my sister, Harper. Harper, this is Imogen."

Harper smiled, but she still looked around at the others like she was trying to decide whether or not to feel excited. Imogen felt the same. "I-I don't understand… what's happening?"

"They've been waiting for you," Hal said. "Just enjoy it. Dancing and drinks. And better food than either of us have had since France."

Imogen still felt unsure as crowds of people rushed around. Some brought out food, others cooked, one man grabbed a fiddle, and many people gathered in the center, starting to dance. Hal sat beside Imogen, clapping. Harper sat on his other side, leaning her head on his shoulder. Imogen joined him in the rhythm. The bright colors of the clothing everyone wore became beautiful blurs in the firelight and Imogen found herself smiling as the music picked up speed.

The revelry had been going on for the better part of an hour when Hal stood in front of Imogen, holding out his hand. She froze. "Oh no, I don't know how to dance," Imogen said. Everyone here seemed to know the steps. It wasn't the same as when James grabbed onto her, swaying back and forth to soft, slow music. This was _real_ dancing.

"Come on, I'll show you," Hal said. For the first time since she met him, Hal had a genuine smile. His hand was still outstretched. Imogen took in and held a breath, glancing around. Hal changed tactics, reaching in and putting a hand on either side of Imogen's waist, pulling her up towards him and onto her feet. "You don't want to be a dull guest of honor, do you?"

Imogen steadied herself as he grabbed one of her hands in his, wrapping the other around her back. Slowly, he took the steps and Imogen watched their feet move in a pattern. As they repeated the same steps over and over, Hal sped them up. When Imogen started to get it, he took the hand from her waist for a moment, lifting Imogen's chin so she was looking at him. He replaced his hand and took them up to tempo, through the crowds.

The cheering, the music, the whooping of those around them lifted Imogen's spirits. She found the family she had come from. She was among people that were her own. She belonged to them, no matter what else happened. Hal's leading seemed to solidify this as he spun her, twirled her, then stopped her abruptly at the last notes of the music. He was looking right into her eyes. The smile was still there on his lips, but it was the kind of tense smile that spoke to something causing restraint. James's face flashed in her mind. He would be laughing and pulling her into him without a moment's thought. Imogen pulled back as Hal dropped his arms. They both applauded the fiddlers.

A woman pushed plates into both their hands as they returned to where Harper sat. "Are you a caller as well?" Imogen asked her.

Harper had sea green eyes that were large, round, and sweet. She looked to Hal, then turned back. "Yes," she answered."Sort of. But my calls were violet instead of green."

"Hal's been teaching me about that," Imogen said.

Hal handed his bread to Harper, then picked up a roasted turkey leg. "She was an idiot when I met her," Hal said.

Imogen scowled at him. There was a little more of a teasing in his tone here among the Gypsies, but he was equally condescending. Harper seemed entertained, laughing. "I wasn't an idiot," she snapped, then turned back to Harper. "I didn't know I was a Gypsy, actually."

"How did you not know?" Harper asked. Hal shook his head and Harper caught his eye. "Sorry. Hal always says I ask bad questions."

"No, it's not a bad question at all," Imogen said. "Just a complicated answer."

"I'll tell you later," Hal promised. Imogen didn't know how she felt about Hal summing up the things she told him to his sister, but she didn't argue, focusing on the food in front of her instead.

Hal hadn't lied. She'd either forgotten what good food was, or this was the best meal she'd ever had. When Imogen was almost done, someone else came by with another full plate, swapping it with Imogen's empty one. "They probably think you're too skinny," Harper said. "That's what they say about me all the time."

Harper certainly looked delicate. She was taller than Imogen—almost as tall as her brother, in fact—but just as thin. Most of the women here weren't excessively fat, but they all had a decent amount of padding on their bodies. As the night became cool, Imogen wondered if it helped. Even though it was the middle of the summer, the evening breeze made her shiver. Harper must have felt the chill too, because Hal took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

It was quite late when Sabina walked into the center of the crowds, raising her hands for everyone to settle down. The music stopped, quiet fell, and she looked at Imogen. "Come," Sabina said. "Zair is much to say before ze night ends."

Imogen set aside the second plate, placing it on the log beside her. She stood, picking up her satchel and laying it across her shoulder. Her heart pounded. She looked over to Hal. He stood as well, looking down at Harper with a single finger raised. He placed a hand on the middle of Imogen's back and they followed Sabina as she lead the way into the dark of night, back to the wagon she'd come out of.

When they stepped inside, the room was far larger than Imogen thought it would be. Rather than the layout of a cottage, though, there was one massive circular table with ten chairs around it. The floors were a dark wood and torches in each corner lit the room. There was a single ladder that lead to a loft-like space, though the area above was encased by wooden walls and a door with a black knob and keyhole. Coming in behind Hal and Imogen was the man who had held her, the other two that were with him in the woods, and the woman who had given them food.

Now that she had a moment to see her, Imogen was surprised to see just how beautiful the woman was. She was probably in her late twenties with a face that was soft, though defined. Her wide eyes were a piercing blue, lined with long, dark lashes and her hair waved down her back in a deep, alluring auburn color. Her body was shapely, emphasized by a corset and shawl that draped across her waist and demurely over her hips. She moved around the room fluidly, grabbing glasses from cupboards for each of them as they sat, filling them with amber liquid.

"Does Hal need to be here?" the gruff man asked.

"He has proven himself," Sabina snapped.

Hal leaned back, glaring at the man. But he didn't seem worried about Hal anymore, focusing on the drink in front of him, finishing it off quickly and raising it for the auburn haired woman to refill.

"Zen perhaps ze boy should give introductions," one of the others said. It was a middle aged man, thin as a rail. He took off his hat, revealing that the top of his head was entirely bald, though long, mousy brown hair ringed his scalp. He hung the hat, with a wide, floppy brim on the edge of his chair.

Hal sat forward. "That's Mihails," he pointed toward the bald man. "You know Sabina already, then Juris—" the second strange man, more fit than the others and well groomed, nodded. Even his clothes were less varied than everyone else's. Next Hal pointed to the woman. "—over there is Valda. She's a brilliant cook." Valda turned to Hal, winking at him. "And last is Tibor."

"Jus' call me _Papa_ , Hal," Tibor said with a heavy laugh. Hal glared at him again, though no one seemed to notice or care.

Imogen looked at Tibor trying to find some resemblance to Hal. They both had raven black hair, but aside from this they could not have seemed more different. She didn't know if it was in part because Tibor wore a thick beard or that he was obviously drunk and still topping off, whereas Hal sat among the group somberly, but Imogen couldn't imagine how they came from the same stock, let alone being father and son.

"So," Imogen said, pulling her attention away from the strange dynamic. "Why were you looking for me?"

Sabina looked at her intently for a while before answering. "For ze same reason you vere looking for us," she said. "Zis is vhere you belong, child."

Imogen licked her lips. "My father _was_ from here?"

Sabina nodded, but it was Juris who expounded. "He grew up in the colony vith his family. Our colony had long held one of each gift in our clan. Sabina is our seer, and has been for very long time. Your father vould have been a leader here, but he vas taken very young."

"Taken?" Imogen asked. The compound had been filled with runaways and orphans. Godfrey had picked these types because they were easy to control, didn't know enough magic most of the time to combat the Imperius Curse, and because their disappearances were often attributed to other complications. "I thought Gypsies had their own protection spells," she added, turning to Hal.

"Ve do," Tibor's voice boomed. "He vas lured by a Frederick Dahl."

Imogen's face felt warm when he said that. Dahl was the only surname she knew coming out of the compound. No birth record had ever been found for her, but that was the name she remembered. "But… that's…"

"Dahl vas a slippery man," Sabina said. Disdain dripped in her tone. "He spoke vith your father and convinced him to leave vith him to Germany. Ve did not see your father after dis."

"How old was he?" Imogen asked.

"Eleven," Sabina answered.

Imogen looked around at the others. "What _is_ my last name then?"

"Gramae," Valda answered, taking a seat with her own glass. Hal's head jerked towards her immediately. "Yes, Hal. Zey vere brother and sister."

Imogen looked at him. "Who?"

"My mum and your dad," he said, still looking at Valda with a level of shock.

"We're… cousins?"

"Apparently," Hal said, looking over to Imogen. He had that odd look that she still didn't understand.

"Most Gypsies are related, of course," Sabina added. "But yes, you are ze one ve have been vaiting for."

Imogen had never imagined that if she had known family—any family—that they would irritate her quite as much as Hal did.

"Our grandparents each had one of the gifts, then," Imogen said to Hal. One of them must have been a caller, the other a caster. "Are they still alive?" she added to the others.

"No," Hal answered on their behalf. "They died ages ago."

Imogen swallowed. Was Hal all she had? Him and Tibor, who had first been harsh and violent towards her? No, she had Harper, too. Even without having spoken much to her, Imogen liked her better than Hal. Cousins—her and Harper.

"I still don't understand why you've been waiting for us," Imogen said. "For me."

A few of them exchanged glances at this question. Sabina continued to look at Imogen, even as she stood, walking around the table and taking the empty chair on Imogen's left. Though Sabina looked frail, she reached out, turning Imogen's chair so they faced one another. Her eyes seemed to search deep into Imogen as Sabina grabbed her right hand. Imogen looked down at their hands, her own sandwiched between Sabina's warm touch. The old woman's skin was thin, veins prominent. She spread Imogen's fingers and laid her palm underneath Imogen's. Sabina's other hand ran over Imogen's again and again.

"Look at me," Sabina instructed. Imogen looked up to find those foggy eyes staring into hers. "You do not understand vat you are. You have much inside you that ze vizards and vitches you have known have suppressed."

Imogen had the urge to counter this claim. Ginny tried to get her to stop using her wandless magic at one point, but it was under the impression that Imogen would lose it as other witches did. When she realized this was beyond the normal wandless magic of children, Ginny encouraged Imogen to use both wand and wandless magic. She wrote to McGonagall, who was trying to help Imogen all last year. But then, Imogen had never been in the habit of being contrary, even if she felt differently from what was being said. Besides, Sabina's voice was captivating. Imogen had the sense that she would know herself better than ever before if she just listened.

"A vell of power lives inside you," Sabina said. She tilted her head and her hand stopped moving. "Ze boy, ze one you love, he may give you great strength, but he vill also be a great veakness to you." Imogen flushed as she spoke of James. She hadn't talked to anyone about him since she'd sat with Lily the night before she left. "You have a destiny, child. A destiny to bring strength back to the clan. Use your gift. Learn your gift. Ve vill help you, ze vay no one else vill. Vill you stay? Vill you return to your home?"

For a moment Ginny came to mind. The feel of Ginny's arm around her as they sat on Imogen's bed at home. An encouraging squeeze she gave Imogen before she left to Hogwarts. Even the day Ginny sat her down, talking about her coming to live with them. Imogen had buried herself in Ginny's hug that day, the uncertainty she had felt was over. She could go see them at some point, though. She had to know what Sabina knew. Imogen needed know what and who she was. She nodded.

"Good," Sabina said, her eyes eager and excited.

* * *

There was a knock at the door. "James, can you get that," Harry said. A direction rather than a request. His parents, Albus, and him had spent the whole evening sorting through papers from Australia and talking over maps. Fleur had a cousin working in France who had tipped them off to a fence that had been broken into using magic. It was a muggle area of Paris and lead to freight trains. Sketches from James's description of Imogen at Gringotts were put up and two of Harry's employees volunteered to monitor the situation.

When James opened the door they were both there. "Hey, James," William Broker said, reaching out a hand to do a handshake he'd taught James. He was in his early thirties with dark brown hair and a full beard.

The woman behind him, Janelle Carver, had sandy blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. She was generally unassuming, though James knew she wasn't to be underestimated. As a muggleborn, her father was a karate instructor and she was fully trained by him. Two years before, when she had first joined the department, James kept trying to get her to show him this at a dinner his dad had for his employees. When she finally agreed, James had been flipped onto the grass on his back, completely winded faster than he knew what was happening. Albus thought it was hilarious.

"How are you?" Janelle asked, leaning in and giving him a hug.

"Been better," James replied.

Broker was in the kitchen greeting Albus as Lily ran out of her room. "Janelle!" she yelled. She stuffed something into her pocket and threw her arms around Janelle.

"What have you been up to, Silly Lily?" she asked.

James shot Lily his new customary scowl and walked into the kitchen.

"...the dates are all listed, but there isn't information otherwise," Albus told Broker, showing him the birth records.

"Huh," he said, rubbing at his chin. "You have all the business documents you said?"

"Yes, but Imogen wouldn't show up in those," Ginny replied. "And he never recorded the names of those he brought in."

"But you're narrowing down who her mum is right? So take a back door. He probably kept contacts of those he was paying off to send him kids and her mother's from Britain. Look for Brits in his employ during a certain year span. Do you have an average age Godfrey would pair them off in the compound?"

"No, but we can venture a guess," Ginny said. "Anywhere between fifteen and twenty."

Broker grabbed a chair, turning it backwards and sitting. "Give it a couple year buffer, but your end date would be a year or so before Imogen's birth, starting twenty years before that. Still a bit wide where parameters are concerned, but better than nothing."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Albus said, setting down the file in his hand. He started pulling out new folders from another box.

Janelle and Lily came into the doorway, each with an arm around the other. "Can we get you something to drink?" Harry offered.

"No, we just came to give you an update," Janelle said.

They all realized this was the likely reason these two came over. Even though they turned down drinks, Ginny busied herself, flitting around the kitchen anxiously. James bit his bottom lip. Lily looked at Janelle, her eyes wide while Albus leaned against the table. James felt his stomach churn as Broker pulled something from a pocket, setting it in front of him.

Harry reached out, grabbing the vial full of silvery substance.

"An Irish muggle girl answered the posters," Janelle said. "Most likely wanted the reward money. Gave her extra in exchange for that. Plus whatever muggle money I had from family vacation last month in my wallet. She looked like she could use a few decent meals."

"And the French were okay with that?" Harry asked.

"Fleur's cousin talked to a couple people. Good contact, actually," Broker said.

Ginny walked out of the kitchen quickly.

"Imogen and someone else from their crew left together," Janelle explained. "Unfortunately they didn't have any other information about the next location, but she did say Imogen mentioned Belarus."

James looked to his dad, hoping Belarus meant something to him. Unfortunately, Harry was looking right back with a raised eyebrow, obviously looking for James himself to know. James shrugged. "Great work, thanks," Harry said to Broker and Janelle.

Ginny came back, holding the wooden pensieve she bought in Australia. "Stick around for a while," Ginny said. "I can bring out some leftovers in a minute."

"I have plans tonight actually," Janelle said. Broker mouthed _She has a date_ in an obvious way. Janelle gave him a playful punch on his shoulder.

"I'll stay. Al and me can figure out what scum was selling kids to Godfrey," he said cheerfully.

James stepped by Ginny as she poured the memory into the pensieve. Lily followed Janelle into the living room, seeing her out. "Can I see?" James asked.

"Sure," Ginny replied. She was still staring into the memory, but reached out and grabbed his hand, taking a steeling breath and squeezing tightly. The two of them entered the memory together.

They were in a forested area. Half a dozen teens lounged around and Imogen—with her short, brown hair and altered appearance—came through some trees right behind a tall stranger. He was a couple inches taller than James and had hair just as dark, though his was slicked down. James felt his blood pumping harder as he told the others that him and Imogen were going to head out. "Catch you later then, Hal," a dark skinned boy said with nod of his head. The Irish girl was saying a couple last words to Imogen.

"Come on, Snow White," Hal said to Imogen, then turned to go. Imogen took a breath and started walking after him.

The rest of the group sat where they were. James let go of Ginny's hand, trying to follow Hal and Imogen through the woods. He needed to know more. Imogen was barely in view when the space around them dissolved and he found himself standing beside his mother in the kitchen. Albus and Broker were talking over some document and James's parents were both looking at him. He turned on his heel and headed back to his room. Lily sat alone on the couch, looking at herself in that mirror again. When he got into his room, James paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair.

"James," Ginny said, stepping into his room. "What is this about?"

"She replaced me," he said, crossing his room again.

Ginny grabbed his arm, stopping him. "What in that memory makes you think that?"

James stopped, trying to think of how to answer her. "Because she... Imogen was... she was going off with him alone."

"Since when does any association with another male mean Imogen has intention to date them? First Lorcan, now someone that, from what we actually saw, may be a travelling companion. There's no reason to think he's anything besides that, at this point. Not to mention, the last time you said anything to her _you_ broke things off."

James sunk onto his bed. "I didn't mean it!"

Ginny sat beside him, shrugging. "That's one of the things about words, James. They aren't always so easy to undo."

"I just want things how they were."

"You don't understand, love. They'll never be the way they were again. You can't just sweep in, bring her home, and pretend nothing happened between you."

"Yeah, well I know you and Dad think she won't forgive me," he muttered.

Ginny sighed, reached over and put a hand on his back. "We don't think any such thing. We don't know what will happen, but regardless things are different. Imogen still has two years of school, James. She will be spending lots of time with other students, about half of which are boys. How is that going to play out with this sudden tendency for jealousy you've developed?"

James wiped at his face.

"James... I need you to understand something. Imogen is part of this family whether or not you date her. And you are both old enough to sort through things without your dad and me. I know it gets complicated, but," she stopped, letting out a breath,"do you think you could figure out how to not get worked up when Imogen has a life outside of you?"

Shut up more, let her have a life outside of him, stop being jealous… James hadn't realized that he'd become such a bad boyfriend. He nodded.

"Now I want your help," Ginny said, standing. "Let's look at that memory again and see if we can figure out where Imogen was going with Hal."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello all! Please excuse a quick interruption. I was recently listening to an audiobook where a song was written, so the narrator had a version they sang. I figured… it might be fun to share an audio bonus of how I imagine/hear the song as I'm writing it! (It will be coming into play again very soon!) So… if it's something you're interested you can enter this link:

sound cloud dot com /user-825800998/ gypsy-child-in-the-meadow

(Sorry it will have to be fixed up a little). Probably easier, you can go into Soundcloud and find me (user name also Sarcasma) or the song (Gypsy Child- In the Meadow).

Also, I have missed a few of my regular reviewers and know that there are generally more people reading than drop a line! I would love to hear what you're thinking at this point in the story!


	8. Masek

_**Masek**_

Imogen had been with the clan for three days. Sabina instructed Valda to clean out a small wagon for her. Valda, in fact, had been the one to get her fresh clothes, fix her hair (evening out her haphazardly choppy cut), and ensured Imogen had anything else she needed. Valda seemed to take her on as a sort of pet, coming in each morning to brush her hair and get her ready, even though Imogen told her she could take care of it herself.

"I alvays vanted a daughter," Valda said.

She seemed too young to say such a thing with so much regret. Besides, she was more the age to look at Imogen as a younger sister rather than a daughter, but Imogen appreciated the affection. "I'm sure you'll have one someday."

"No," Valda said sadly. "I vas married once, but he did not love me as he should have. And now I cannot have children."

Imogen looked at her through the mirror. "I'm sorry to hear that," she said. Valda craned her head around, giving Imogen a kiss on the cheek.

"Your hair is perfect," Valda declared, using a wand to create a crown of baby's breath and setting it atop Imogen's head.

Imogen's days seemed almost empty. Children littered the clan, pulling her in various directions. Usually Hal and Harper joined. "Come ride ze bike," a small girl named Gabe requested, pulling on Imogen's arm.

Harper brought along a bowl of porridge for Imogen as they went into the empty field the children played in. Imogen had never seen a bicycle until her first morning here. Harper showed her how to use the rusty contraption that everyone shared, riding in circles in the grass. She liked it better than riding a broom. It seemed more solid somehow, even if it did take more physical exertion to operate. Imogen got onto the bike, Gabe sitting on the handles, and started to ride as the young girl squealed. Other children chased after them.

Imogen had never been surrounded by so many children and she found out she loved it. Most of the Weasleys had children her own age, except for George and Angelina, whose oldest was seven. Here, they crowded her, vying for her attention and turns on the bike. Hal said they'd get over it. She was new and they liked new people, but it wouldn't last. Gabe got off and others took turns, one after another.

"Alright, alright, I'm worn out!" Imogen said when they started to argue who was first for a second round of rides. She stepped off the bike, collapsing into the grass, playing dead. Several of the kids gathered around, poking at her and chattering on in English and their own language, which Imogen didn't understand.

"Back off her, you little rodents," Hal shouted at them.

The kids scattered and Imogen propped herself up on her elbows, watching them run across the field to begin another game. "Why would you say that?" she asked, turning towards Hal.

"They'll hardly remember I said anything in an hour," Hal said.

Imogen rolled her eyes, stood, and walked towards them. Harper handed Imogen the porridge. It was cold now, but Imogen ate it anyway. Valda would probably have made something delicious for lunch.

Harper rubbed her hands together. It was a strange tick of hers. Imogen noticed on that first morning the angry red scars across the palms of Harper's hands—a long stripe cut in a diagonal on each side. When her hands weren't busy, she would sometimes rub at them or scratch her palms.

"What happened to your hands?" Imogen asked between bites.

Harper hesitated and had just opened her mouth when Hal jumped in. "Harper doesn't like talking about it." Harper shut her mouth and looked down. Hal put an arm around her and whispered something in her ear. Harper nodded.

Hal had the ability to irritate Imogen the way no one else had ever been able to. She swallowed back a comment about letting his sister speak for herself. Maybe it was a hard topic for Harper, like talking about losing her parents had always been a difficult topic for Imogen. "Sorry," she said instead. Harper gave her a small, grateful smile.

"Sabina is starting lessons with you today, right?" Hal asked.

"Not until the afternoon," Imogen said with a sigh.

"Look, it's back," Harper said, pointing towards the edge of the woods. There, along the line of trees, was the brightest white horse Imogen had ever seen. It peeked through the trees, eating the grass on the edge of the field. The children had noticed. Instead of running after it the way Imogen expected, they all quietly edged around until they were across the field. They all watched him eat, pointing and speaking to each other quietly. "It's mixed breed. Half unicorn."

"I didn't know that was possible," Imogen said.

"It's really _really_ rare. And they always end up travelling alone. They have some magical properties of unicorns, but their usually rejected from the unicorn herds," Harper said.

Imogen had a feeling, like a tugging from the middle of her stomach. She set down the now empty bowl. In a steady stride, she walked towards the horse. It lifted its head, looking right at her.

"It won't stay!" Hal yelled. "It always runs off."

The horse maintained eye contact, its white coat glowing in the mid morning light. It threw its head as Imogen came closer and she stopped. Still the horse watched her. She was ten yards away or so. She lifted her right hand, holding it out palm down and looked at the creature. Its eyes were dark, black like the darkest night with just one speck of brightness. It whinnied, then trotted towards her. A foot apart now, Imogen tilted her head, trying to figure out exactly what the horse wanted. There was a strange feeling like the horse knew she would understand it. He threw back his head again and Imogen stepped forward, arm still in front of her. She touched his muzzle and immediately golden sparks emitted from her hand. The horse nuzzled into it and Imogen smiled. "You are lovely," she said, stepping in closer.

"How did you do that?" Harper asked, walking up behind. Hal was another several yards beyond her, keeping his distance. "I've tried to approach him dozens of times and he never let me get anywhere near him."

"I think he wanted me to," Imogen said, unable to make sense of how she knew that. "He's lonely."

The horse dropped to his front knees and Imogen looked back at Harper.

"He'll just throw you off," Hal warned. Imogen didn't listen as she climbed onto the horse's back. Rather than standing, he waited.

"I think he wants you to come too," Imogen told Harper.

"No way," Hal said, stepping forward. The horse gave a huff and he stopped. Harper was walking forward, though. "Harper, don't you dare."

"Come on, Hal, let her have a little fun," Imogen said. Harper seemed torn, but closed the distance, straddling the horse behind Imogen, wrapping her arms around Imogen's middle to hold on.

"Fine, then I'm coming, too," Hal said. But as soon as he started walking towards them, the horse got to his feet and trotted off in the opposite direction. "Get back here! Imogen, make him come back!"

"I'm not steering," she called behind were getting farther away as Hal cursed at the horse and Imogen. Harper seemed entirely unperturbed, leaning forward and laughing in delight. "He's going to think I did that on purpose."

"Oh, who cares," Harper said. "I have tried to get this horse to stay since we got here! How did you do it?"

"No idea," Imogen answered as the horse trotted along. "You don't think he's going to take us too far, do you?"

"Guess we'll find out." Harper was delighted by this adventure and the horse seemed to take that as a good sign, clomping along happily.

"When _did_ you and Hal come here?"

"Nearly five years ago," Harper answered.

"From Scotland?"

"No," Harper said. "We were travelling on the trains for awhile before that."

"Do you miss Scotland?"

"Sometimes. Do you miss Australia?"

"I miss people from Australia," Imogen said. They were silent for the next several minutes. Imogen realized she never did respond to Dakota's letter. "Can you get or send owls here?" She hadn't seen any among the clan. She wondered if anyone had tried to send an owl with Peregrine.

"In some clans you can. Sabina doesn't allow it," Harper said. "She doesn't trust wizards, and that's how wizards get in touch with each other. She says that's what we have the calls for."

That made sense. Besides, Imogen didn't know what she'd say if she sent an owl. Maybe she shouldn't even go back directly to the Potter's house. Maybe she should just show up at King's Cross on the first and go back to Hogwarts on her own. She still had a little money that she could order books with once she was there. She would see the Potters on the platform, of course. Maybe that would be a better place to explain herself. Even thinking of her next conversation with them worried her. Ginny's expression when Imogen was found with Lorcan came to mind. If Ginny had been that angry then, Imogen could only imagine the ire she had conjured now.

"Speaking of calls," Imogen said, looking around. Just like when Hal brought her here in the first place, the woods looked the same in every direction. "You can make a call for us to get back after this right?"

Harper didn't reply right away. "I can't," she said. "Ever since… the cuts…"

Imogen didn't look back at her, but she understood. The scars. Whatever happened ended Harper's ability to use her gift. "That's alright, we'll figure it out," Imogen said.

"He's taking us to the graveyard!" Harper said, sitting up straighter. "This is where everyone from this clan has been buried for the last two hundred years."

"Our grandparents?"

The horse, as though to answer, picked up speed, weaving in and out of trees, between large stone and wooden markers. Ivy grew up on the slabs and symbols glowed even on the oldest graves. There were some plots that had wild berries growing on them, others covered with tangles of flowers. The horse stopped and Imogen looked on the left, then the right. The name _Gramae_ was engraved into a stone. The horse pawed at the ground, throwing his head up and down.

Imogen reached behind her, giving Harper a hand to help her down before following. The two of them sat in front of the stone together. Two names were listed: Ilona and Steponas. It seemed odd compared to other graveyards she had seen. Rather than a full date, only the month and year were listed for both of their births and deaths. She looked at other headstones nearby. All of them were the same. Harper started to sing. Her voice was clear and pretty, though Imogen didn't know the song. She reached out, tracing the characters with the tip of her finger.

"They both died the same month," Imogen said.

Harper stopped singing. Imogen looked over to her and she nodded. "Sabina told us it was a fire. Our grandmama was casting, trying to stop it. But it was a magical fire. Grandpapa tried to get her out, but they both ended up stuck in flames."

Imogen looked at the year. Ten years before she was born. She tried to do some math and figuring, guessing at how old her father was when he died. Her mental image of him couldn't be trusted, but Godfrey didn't usually take anyone older than fifteen. If Frederick Dahl sold her father, he may have been eleven when he arrived in Australia. Did his parents know he was gone? Did they miss him? She thought inexplicably of Harry and Ginny at this. Of course, this was different. Harry and Ginny had three children of their own. And she left them a note. She would be back, if they would have her. Her father never returned.

Leaning against Harper's shoulder, Imogen shed quiet tears for the grandparents she never knew. Harper looped her elbow around Imogen's and started singing her song again.

 _The water is wide, I cannot get o'er  
Neither have I wing to fly  
Give me a boat that can carry two  
And both shall row, my love I_

Harper continued verse after verse. Imogen noticed a pair of cornflowers growing from the soil near the edge of the stone. She reached out her left hand, gently pressing her energy at blooms. Several more grew from the spot, creating a bed of blue. She worked on the ivy next, helping it to grow and stretch into a frame around the names. _Ilona and Steponas_.

"Wow," Harper breathed.

"The seeds were already there," Imogen said. "I just used a spell that made them grow."

They both stood, still arm in arm. Imogen took the baby's breath crown from her head, placing it on the corner of the headstone and they turned back to where the horse waited.

"Do you think you can get us back?" Imogen asked him, patting his neck. He lowered himself for them to mount again and started back towards the clan.

"He needs a name," Harper declared halfway there.

"I think you should do the honors," Imogen said. "You are the one who waited so long to meet him."

Harper hummed as she thought. "How about Masek?"

"Masek?"

"It means _lucky_ ," Harper said.

The horse snorted and Imogen laughed. "I guess that's it, then. Masek it is."

Harper told her all the names of the clan's horses as they made their way through the forest. When they were in range of others, Hal strode over. "Get off that thing," he demanded.

"He's not a _thing_ ," Harper said. "He's Masek!"

"Just get down," he said, coming closer. Masek turned around and nipped at him. Hal jumped back.

"Calm down, Masek," Imogen said, leaning forward and rubbing his neck. "We won't let the mean man hurt you." Hal scowled at her.

Harper slid off on her own this time and Imogen followed. Masek immediately ran off into the woods to be on his own. Imogen watched him disappear into the thicket of tree trunks.

"Sabina is waiting for you," Hal said.

Imogen turned around and made her way to the main wagon. As it turned out, no one actually slept in this wagon, though it was most often occupied by Sabina and the few people closest to her— the same people who had met with her that first night. None of the others were there as she entered this time, Sabina drumming her fingers on the table with a box in front of her.

Sabina stopped, looking at Imogen as she found a seat next to Sabina. "You found your grandparents' resting place," she said.

Imogen paused, looking at her. _She's a seer_ , Imogen reminded herself. She nodded.

"You mus' be cautious vhen you leave ze safety of ze clan," Sabina warned.

"I didn't know that's what I was doing," Imogen said.

"Zair are many vizards who still vish us harm," she added. "Ve vill talk of dis later. You also found ze _jumătate cal_?"

"The what?"

"Ze half horse," Sabina said. "Perhaps you noticed he had a liking for you?"

"Yes," Imogen said, perking up. "But why?"

"Casters have alvays been aligned vith nature," she explained. "Ze earliest casters helped vith ze fields, creating growth and life vhich ze clan could prosper from."

"But that's not all?"

"No. Even ze least gifted casters can do great magic. And you, child, are greatly gifted." Sabina looked in her. Imogen felt naked under her stare. "You vill see, Imogen. But do not vorry over zat now. Zis is for you."

Sabina pushed the box over, folding her hands in front of her as Imogen reached over, lifting the lid. The box was full of pictures. Imogen paused, her heart pounding, before reaching in, pulling a few of them out. She immediately noticed the same four people, over and over again. She ran a finger over an individual portrait of a boy with dark hair and an easy smile. He looked like a younger, happier version of Hal. "My papa?" Imogen asked, looking up.

"Yes," Sabina said. "Zat is ze only box vhich survived ze fire."

"Have Hal and Harper seen them?"

Sabina leaned forward. "Zey are not sentimental like you, Imogen," she said. "Zey do not sink of ze past to guide zair future."

"But this is their mother," Imogen said. She looked closely at her aunt. Harper had clearly taken after her. "What were their names?"

"Her name vas Bianka and his, Andres."

 _Andres Gramae_. But that wasn't what he went by. Imogen tried to think how she would have known the name Dahl, but it always came back around to her father using the name.

"Frederick Dahl targeted your papa after his parents died. He vas young and veak. Easy for Dahl to use."

Imogen looked up at Sabina. It couldn't have been coincidental that she was thinking of this and Sabina provided an answer. "How old was he when they died?"

"Ten. Jus' a year before Dahl took him."

"What about Bianka? Why did she leave?"

"Bianka vas never right after giving birth to Harper," she said. "She vent mad, took ze children from Tibor and hid zem in Scotland."

Tibor's interactions with Hal didn't speak much to a father trying to restore a relationship, but maybe there was no recovery after a certain amount of time. Hal wasn't the easiest person to get along with either. Maybe Tibor had tried, but found only contempt. Still, that didn't explain his lack of interaction with Harper.

"Did you know them?" Imogen looked up from a family picture, their four faces close together.

"Of course," Sabina said. "I know everyone who belongs in ze clan."

Imogen shuffled through several more images. Sabina just watched her. Imogen smiled at one where her father and aunt were swimming in the lake nearby. Even though he was younger, there was something familiar in his smile. His kind eyes were squinted in the sun as he waved up at her. "I don't remember anything about him."

"Your memories have been blocked."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I cannot see zem," Sabina answered. "As ve release ze gift inside you, you vill be able to remember on your own."

Imogen put the pictures in her hand back into the box, carefully closing the lid to the box. "Then let's start."

* * *

Lorcan waited as Lily found a place to talk. They hadn't seen each other since the day he'd hidden under Imogen's bed, waiting for James to leave. As soon as James disapparated, Lily rushed in. "Merlin! I thought we were completely buggered there!" she said, pulling him out from the bed. They quickly gathered the books he brought, along with the book from Imogen's room, and Lorcan headed home.

With their latest discovery, Lorcan was able to bring some piece of information daily now. Lily was excited each night as he reported back. He wished he could tell her in person. The little gasps and squeals would be so much more fun if he could see the expressions that accompanied them. He could also see what she was describing. Lily would describe visuals that matched the information he presented.

"Sorry that took longer," Lily said. "James has been on my case. I figured the park would be safer."

"It's fine," Lorcan said. He hardly got nervous when he talked to Lily anymore. Even when they talked about other things, which every night seemed to be more and more. Two nights before, Lily started talking into the can around midnight, saying she couldn't sleep, and they just talked about nothing for hours. Lorcan woke the next morning, the can resting in his hand on his chest. "I don't have a lot today, but I did find a folklore book at Grandpa Lovegood's."

"Folklore?"

Lorcan was flipping through it at his desk. "Yeah, folklore from different wizarding cultures around the world. There's this Gypsy story about two sisters who are given gifts by their mother. The mum is some kind of fortune teller or something, and the other two are given the gifts of extraordinary magic and gathering. Gathering refers to the vocan orbis I think. It's like… a portkey or something."

"Wow," Lily said. "So that's real?"

"It's mostly written as stories," Lorcan said. "But those kinds of stories usual speak to a cultural understanding of something real."

"I still can't believe we didn't figure this out when she was here," Lily said. "I mean, it makes sense that there would be a reason she could do wandless magic, right? I think we all just thought it was this really cool trick."

"I know what you mean," Lorcan said. When Imogen first did wandless magic around him, he tried to get her to teach him. When he couldn't manage, he had her show him little things she could do, like move the curtains, turn lights on and off, and summon objects. She couldn't do some of the most basic spells in class, but these things came so easily for her. She was doing them silently and didn't seem to know that this was supposed to be difficult. Lorcan told her they wouldn't be learning how to do non-verbal spells for ages. Imogen was always reluctant to do wandless magic around most people, but him and Lysander would ask her to do certain things when they were the only ones in the common room. "Anyway, reading between the lines, this a really big deal. Not all Gypsies have these talents, from what I can tell."

"Wow," Lily said again. She was quiet for a while. "She seems really happy there."

There was a sadness in how Lily said it. Lorcan felt it immediately, too. What would he do at Hogwarts without Imogen? It wasn't like he didn't get along with others in his class, and he always had his brother Lysander. But Lysander was more popular than him. He played beater for the Ravenclaw team and was so often surrounded by other students. Being surrounded by a crowd just made Lorcan anxious. He'd much rather be with Imogen in a corner, having a discussion. "She'll be back," he said, though he didn't know if he believed it.

"I really want to know what she found out about her parents," Lily said.

"Your mum and Albus found out her mum was from England, though, right?"

"Yeah, so maybe it's just her dad, but I still want to know."

"She'll be back," he said again. If he said it enough, maybe it would be true.

"I'm staying with Grandma and Grandpa on my own next week, by the way!" Lily's voice perked up. "You're not still grounded, right? So if I came next Saturday evening...?"

Lorcan smiled and felt his face get hot. The benefit to having the tin cans to communicate was that Lily didn't know how often he blushed when she sounded excited to hear from him. "Yeah, that will work. I'll ask Mum if I can invite you for dinner."

"Excellent! I think my mum is going to enlist me to help find information on Imogen's mother, so I might not be able to talk a lot until then. But I'm betting we can find lots of information by next week," Lily said.

Their conversation veered into lots of other topics. When Lorcan finally looked at a clock, it was past ten. "You better get home, before James starts to wonder what you're doing," Lorcan suggested.

Lily sighed. "You're right. Well… see you next week!"

"Yeah," Lorcan said. "See you then."

* * *

"No!" Sabina yelled at Imogen.

She was working with her again in an open field, filled with dandelions. There was a chair a hundred feet off that had been broken and Imogen was supposed to fix it. Her impulse was to use what she'd learned at Hogwarts. She spoke the word, _reparo_ , and Sabina reacted immediately. She flicked her wand and the chair fell back into pieces.

"You do not _need_ vords!" Sabina yelled at her. "And do not use vizard spells. Zey are inferior to vat you can do!"

Hal and Harper sat on the rickety wooden fencing nearby. Harper was encouraging. Whenever she was able, she'd shout out a few supportive words, telling Imogen she could do it. Hal just laughed. They joined to watch each of these session, which Sabina was now having with Imogen morning and afternoon. Hal's laugh was getting on her last nerve. Imogen stretched her hand towards him and he went flying backwards, into the empty horse's paddock.

Harper laughed now and Hal cursed as he stood up. "I landed in a pile of shit!" he shouted. Imogen pressed her lips together to keep from joining Harper.

"Concentrate!" Sabina yelled at her, grasping her shoulders and bringing her focus back around. "No vords!"

Imogen had just done a spell without words, but she didn't point this out. She composed herself, looking at the chair. It was in four or five pieces. Reaching out both hands she stood there, concentrating. Or trying to. When it didn't happen right away, a weight pressed against her chest and her mind wandered to other times and other people she had done magic with. She thought of snow fights with Albus and Lily. She thought of Ginny helping her with spells in Australia. She thought of studying with Lorcan. Her heart sank and she dropped her hands in frustration.

Sabina stood in front of her, grasping hard to her shoulders. "You let yourself be distracted," she said. "You miss zose you left behind, but zey do not vish you to excel. Vizards have alvays held jealousy toward Gypsies and our gifts," she said, her eyes narrowing. "Zey do not love you. Zey need you. You do not need zem.

Imogen looked down and didn't respond. Her heart pounded as a moment with James surged forward in her mind. It was November of her fourth year and she was missing Dakota and the others. A few of them had sent her owls since the start of the school year, but she didn't want to be a bother or pester them for more. So instead James pestered them, sending an owl to each of those they knew, dragging her into his room one morning before breakfast. On his bed was laid out each letter, pictures of them waving to her, some little figurines Dakota sent, and even a couple chocolates and treats that she loved from Australia. They sat together on his bed, James behind her with his chin resting on her shoulder as she carefully read each word.

"James used you," Sabina said.

The words jolted Imogen as she looked at Sabina, a lump in her throat. "No," she said, her hand moved to the locket beneath her shirt.

"All vizards use us, Imogen," Sabina said. She reached out a grabbed Imogen's other hand. She ran her thumb over the top. Her approach softened. "Did Valda tell you her story?"

Imogen swallowed. "She said she was married."

"She vas married to a vizard. A man who vanted ze Gypsy secrets. For years he pretended to love her, feeding her a poison zat left her barren, and had many relationships besides. Vhen she came back, Valda vas a broken voman."

"That's terrible."

Sabina nodded. "Go rest, child," she said. "Vhen ve start zis afternoon, you must forget zhem."

Sabina walked away first and Hal hopped the fence walking towards Imogen with Harper. "Mind cleaning me up, oh powerful one," he spat.

Imogen tried not to smile, though she found it took a lot of effort. "I was going to do laundry anyway, so hand it over." She held out her hand for his shirt. Hal scowled at her as he took off his vest, then his shirt, pushing them both into her hands, inside out. He stalked off.

"I'll help you," Harper said. "He's in a mood today."

That had been pretty apparent. Hal was generally sarcastic, but his level of surliness fluctuated in a way that Imogen found hard to follow. "I noticed," Imogen said as they made their way back to her wagon.

There was an area along the south side of the lake where dozens of ropes were tied in between the trees as clothes lines. Imogen and Harper went to a space on the bank where water was still. A little ways down there were several children swimming, some of their parents cleaning clothes along the edges, others just watching. Gabe popped up high in the water waving over to Imogen. She smiled and waved back.

Harper sang as Imogen worked. She'd place a piece of clothing in the water, using her magic to allow it to soak, then rub against a rough stone. She created suds, then would make them disappear, finally pull her clothes from the water. She wrung them out by hand, then sent them by magic to fling over pieces of the ropes. Her wardrobe was now a mix of the clothes she brought and those that had been given to her here.

"Who is James?" Harper asked when she'd finished one of her songs.

Imogen paused her work. "He's my… well, was my boyfriend."

Harper's brow knit. "What happened?"

Imogen bent down by the basket, pulling out a long skirt. "I, uh… he didn't want me anymore."

"But you defended him to Sabina," Harper said.

"It's one of the only things you defended to Sabina," Hal said. Imogen looked at him. He'd put on a new shirt, this one fitted, compared to the loose one now hanging on the line to dry. "You don't agree with what she says about wizards, do you?"

"I don't know what to think of what she says."

"That's a lie," Hal scoffed. "You cringe every time she starts on about the vices of wizards."

Imogen felt heat rise to her cheeks as she ground her teeth together. She wasn't going to give into his needling.

"Is that why things fell through with Prince Charming, Snow White? You never actually told him what you thought or wanted?"

"Hal, knock it off," Harper told him.

Instead he squatted beside Imogen who was focused on the jeans in her hands. "I'm guessing he finally realized you weren't on board all the time? Didn't like that much, did he?"

Imogen turned, ready to throw him back again, when a scream pierced the air. They all looked around.

"Gabe! Where did Gabe go?!"

Imogen stood the blood draining from her face as her eyes darted through the little faces in the water, looking for Gabe. Hal didn't hesitate. He pulled off his shirt and pants, leaving him in boxers as he dove into the lake. He swam towards where the children had been, as they were all making their way to shore. Hal disappeared beneath the waterline. The parents were each taking count of their children, moving away, but Gabe's mother waded into the water, shouting her name over and over again.

Imogen stumbled over the rocky ledge, trying to get closer to where Hal had disappeared, Harper right behind her. "Hal!" Harper yelled in desperation. Imogen held her breath until a moment later, Hal broke through the surface, his arms around a small, lifeless body. "Oh God!" her mother shouted. Hal struggled forward and Imogen had joined Gabe's mother in the water. Someone must have told Gabe's father, because he ran to the shore, grabbing to his wife as he joined her.

Hal was making progress when the water around him swirled strangely. He kicked, pushing Gabe over him as his head disappeared and emerged once or twice. Gabe's mother fell into hysterics, Harper screamed grasping Imogen's arm.

Imogen saw movement to the left. There was Juris, at the edge of the woods with his wand. But he was just standing there. _Why isn't he helping?_ she thought, then turned back. _Why am I not helping?_ she realized, throwing out her hands and concentrating on the eddy of water. She could feel the force of the whirlpool. Centered in the chaos she could sense Hal's body, desperately trying to hold on, struggling to stay surfaced.

Imogen pulled with all her energy on him and the form he clung to. They flew through the water, to the edge at Imogen's feet. She bent in the shallow water, pulling Gabe into her arms. Hal let go, gasping and choking for air himself. Harper focused her attention on him, helping him sit up and breathe.

Gabe was limp. Imogen pushed her hair out of Gabe's face. Imogen could hear Gabe's parents splashing towards them. "Oh, God, no! No, Gabe, not Gabe," she said.

Imogen's eyes darted as she raised her right hand over Gabe's chest. There was water in her lungs. She closed her eyes and pressed on the lungs. Water erupted from Gabe's mouth, followed by the same choking coughs Hal had just finished. Imogen turned her sideways so the water could all come out. She pressed again. Gabe's eyes flew open and confusion set on her face.

"Gabe!" her father shouted, leaning in and picking her up has the young girl began to cry. He muttered to her in their language, though Imogen could tell it was a mantra of comfort and reassurance.

Imogen was just standing when Gabe's mother threw herself around Imogen. "You saved our girl!" she said, sobbing into Imogen's neck, clinging to her. Several members of the clan were coming around, wrapping Gabe and Hal in blankets and helping Harper get her brother to his feet and on shore. "Zank you! Zank you!"

"Yeah," Imogen let out, not knowing what else to say. Her heart was still racing from the fear of what might have happened.

The small family was ushered away and Imogen took a deep breath. She looked out to the lake. The eddy was gone and stillness dominated the water again. Imogen looked to where she'd seen Juris, but he was gone.

"Imogen!" She looked back. Valda stood there, wide eyed and pale. "Come, come!"

Imogen made her way through the water and Valda wrapped her in yet another blanket. She hadn't noticed she was soaked up to her waist. Valda was checking her arms, neck and face. "I'm fine," Imogen told her.

"You are a brave girl. I vill make you all soup," she said. "You stay vith zem," Valda added, pushing Imogen onto a rock opposite Hal.

"I was the one to snap the grindylows' fingers off her," Hal said bitterly. "But let's all thank the pretty new arrival."

"Hal, she saved you too," Harper said.

"No, he's right," Imogen said. "She would have been gone if it weren't for you."

Hal, whose steely, mean look had been aimed at Imogen since that morning, softened. "Sorry 'bout what I said before."

Imogen shook her head. More than anything else because she didn't want to rehash it. She didn't want to think about where things had gone wrong with James. Partly because when Hal had said those things, she knew he was right.


	9. Deeper Magic

_**Deeper Magic**_

If Imogen received all the initial credit for Gabe's survival at the lake, Hal was an equal part in it by the feast they held that night. Gabe's mother especially kept coming up to him, patting his cheek and kissing his forehead. Others brought him drinks and wanted him to recount what happened down below. In some ways he finally seemed free of the moodiness that had ruled him earlier, but Imogen could see that in between praise and celebration, he would lose the bravado. Hal's shoulders would slump and he'd take on a look of consternation.

Mostly, though, Imogen enjoyed the party. At least this time her role as a central figure had something to do with what she actually did, rather than just showing up. The only person who didn't seem pleased with Imogen after the afternoon's events was Sabina. When Imogen went to work with her again, Sabina had a shorter temper than normal.

"Use ze magic like you did vith zat girl!" she demanded.

Imogen tried. The lake had given her that feeling of something inside her, as Sabina described over and over. The feeling was akin to whatever she had done when Fritz died and she wondered if it was only accessible to her in times of fear or distress. It was different than when she was doing a spell at Hogwarts. Those didn't seem to require anything from that reserve deep inside of her.

Sabina seemed certain she should be able to control it, though.

The fiddling stopped and people murmured. Harper and Imogen talked and laughed when Gabe's father came up to Imogen. "You must sing for us," he said.

There was an enthusiastic cheer in unison and Imogen blushed. She would hum almost anytime she worked, and occasionally songs would come out, but she didn't sing like Harper. Not in front of others and especially not in front of large crowds of people. Harper shoved Imogen up, joining the cheering as she did.

Imogen looked around thinking. There were songs from the wireless she sort of knew, but it seemed odd to start singing that sort of music here. Then there were little bits of some of the songs Harper would sing, but she was certain to forget them halfway through. She took a breath and started to sing the only song she could think of so quickly.

 _In the meadow,  
In the meadow,  
Just before the sun will rise_

The clapping stopped and the crowd turned silent. This was worse. Imogen felt hot with embarrassment, continuing in a shaky voice.

 _Meet me there and find a rainbow  
Then you always will be mine_

She paused, clearing her throat before starting the next verse. As she did, Harper's voice sang with her, harmonizing as she continued.

 _Down the stream  
And through the hollow  
There you'll find my favorite lad  
Rest inside from all your sorrows  
Seek the one to make you glad_

They sang the last verse together and scattered voices from the clan joined them soft and low. Imogen looked over to Hal, expecting him to have started as well. Instead he was tense, his eyes looking off into some unknown distance. They finished and as everyone cheered, he ducked through the crowd, leaving.

Someone else was being called to sing next and Harper let out a breath. "He doesn't like that song."

"Why not?"

"I'll tell you later," Harper looked around at the crowds uncertainly.

The songs and dancing continued. As the crowd settled and people headed back to their wagons, Harper grabbed Imogen, dragging her away. They went into the field, the bike laying abandoned in the grass. Harper fell into the grass as well, looking up at the stars.

Imogen followed her lead. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would start with another lesson from Sabina. She looked at the stars, brighter than she had ever seen them before. Lorcan knew the constellations much better than her, but she looked around, naming them in her mind like he did whenever they were out at night.

"The meadow is a real place," Harper said into the silent night.

Imogen kept looking at the sky. "A place for Gypsies?"

"Yes," Harper said. "That song is all about it. Our mum sang it to us every night."

"What's it for? I mean… what kind of place? Like a clan?"

"No. It's a sacred place. It's a place to converse with the dead. Or to join them."

When Imogen thought of the meadow from the song, she'd always imagined flowers and trees and rays of warm sunlight. Death never featured in her visions. "What kills those who go?"

"Nothing _kills_ them. It's not really dying," Harper said. "They say it was created to rejoin lovers, when death had intervened too soon. But the living can choose to stay or go. For a while at least. They exist outside of death. But they exist outside of life, too."

"Why does it upset Hal?"

"Because he's been there. I think he sometimes wishes he hadn't come back."

"Why did he then?" Imogen turned her head to look at Harper.

"For me."

* * *

"I remembered," Imogen said when she arrived at lessons with Sabina the next morning.

Sabina looked at her, one eyebrow raised. Imogen knew she could see it for herself, but she still waited for Imogen's explanation.

"I had a dream last night, but it was a dream that was a memory," Imogen said. "I mean, I remember something. I remembered my papa singing the meadow song to me."

It was a simple memory, unimportant even. She must have been six or seven and was laying in her bed at the compound. Her papa sat beside her, singing the song and patting her hand with his, their palms running one against the other and golden sparks in between them. Her mother walked in and stood in the doorway watching, smiling at the two of them.

"Very good," Sabina said, a glint in her eye. "Zat is because you used your magic. You vill remember more as you practice."

Imogen nodded, anxious to start. If she expected sudden improvement, both her and Sabina were disappointed. In the next four days, her only success was to attach two of the chair pieces. The rest laid untouched in the pile.

She had never been so exhausted as she tried to find the magic Sabina spoke of. Imogen spent the evening with Harper and Hal. Gabe would often come by as well. One evening after supper, Gabe reached over to grab Imogen's hand. Little, but distinct, silver sparks came from her palm, tickling Imogen's skin. Imogen waited until she was gone, then looked over to Hal.

"Is Gabe's mum or dad a caster?"

Hal shot her his look that told Imogen he thought she was daft. "Sabina wouldn't have gone looking for you if there were already a caster here," he said.

"Oh, right," Imogen said.

In between lessons over the next couple days, Imogen watched Gabe.

No more memories surfaced and no matter how hard Imogen tried, she still seemed unable to do what Sabina wanted. They had moved to the gardens and her new task was to encourage the growth of the fall harvest. Imogen had made some already grown tomatoes ripen and enlarge, but to make new growth was nearly impossible.

Harper was still always there, though Hal seemed to be bored with the lessons and rarely came anymore. She sat against a nearby tree, weaving long blades of grass into a wreath. Sabina stood beside Imogen, grasping her arm as she failed, once again, to do what she had been out here to do.

"You are sinking of zhem again," she snapped.

As usual, Sabina was right. Imogen was thinking of Lily and Ginny and the others more and more, missing them and trying to think of a way to bring up going back. The Gypsies didn't keep track of time the same way, but when Imogen tried to figure out the date, she realized it must be the end of July or beginning of August. If she was going to make amends before school, she would need to get going back sometime soon. Still, she was torn. She would like to learn what Sabina was trying to teach her. Somehow Imogen imagined if she could do that, she could at least have something to show for her escapades. Maybe the Potters would understand.

"Zey do not vant you, Imogen," Sabina said. "Vizards are selfish and do not care for anything but zemselves!"

It had been a while since Sabina had spoken so harshly about wizards or the Potters specifically. Imogen swallowed and tried to stand tall. "Not them," Imogen said."They took care of me. They love me."

"Perhaps," Sabina said, narrowing her eyes. There was a shift in her demeanor. She kept one hand on Imogen's shoulder, circling behind her. "But zey limit you. If zey are going to come to mind, you must _use_ zem to create. Now zey only block. You must _feel_ your gift." She crossed an arm around Imogen, placing her hand on Imogen's chest, over her heart. Sabina's lips were next to Imogen's ear. "Close your eyes."

Imogen did. She took steadying breaths, stretching her fingers and trying to feel. "Deep inside you, zair is a power. Look for ze power."

Imogen tried to find that place she'd only known a couple times. She followed the feeling in her palms that let her sense the world around her. She felt tendrils—light and soft. She imagined them flowing through her, to a place that was only hers. It sat in the pit of her stomach.

"Now, raise your hands," Sabina whispered. She was tapping a rhythm on Imogen's chest with a single finger. The feeling in the pit of her stomach became more and more defined. "Sink of _him_."

Imogen almost opened her eyes, but instead she swallowed. She thought of James. She thought of when they first knew each other. They were the youngest in the group in Australia. Imogen liked him immediately. She remembered sitting next to him, hoping he would reach around her to help stir the potions he taught her some evenings. Imogen waited ages before he kissed her for the first time. James later told her that he'd been lectured by his uncle to take things slow. Still, their first kiss (which was also Imogen's first kiss with anyone) was perfect. James had been perfect. He used to magic beautiful white flowers to stick in her hair. Imogen smiled at the memory.

Power surged through her. Imogen felt the roots and stems, small and feeble, in the garden in front of her. She thought of the flower growing in James's palm and felt the stems grow as well. The plants grew upward and vegetables and fruits sprung from them. But it continued. Whatever it was, this feeling that pulsed to the rhythm Sabina tapped above her heart, moved through as she pictured James, looking at her after placing the flower in her hair.

"Oh my god!" Harper gasped.

Imogen opened her eyes. The garden was full of ripe, beautiful plants, but surrounding the plot of groomed soil, flowers sprang up through the grass. Imogen had only ever made grow what was already there. That was a limitation of wizarding magic. She could feel the difference. She had made these herself. White flowers, like the one James often made for her. Only this wasn't just a bloom in her palm. They sprung from the earth in a pattern starting next to the garden and spreading outward. Harper reached over and plucked one that grew up next to her. Imogen closed her hands and pulled them back. She expected the flowers to disappear. Instead, the ones that had started continued until they were large, open blooms.

Sabina let go of her, walking out and looking at the flowers. She had gone to the middle of the growth and turned around. "Zis is the power you have," she said. "Valda vill have food ready. Ve vill do more after."

Sabina turned again, walking through the flowers. Harper hopped up, running over to where Imogen stood. "That was amazing," she said, awestruck.

Imogen nodded, reaching up to play with the locket around her neck. In the moment it gave her a warm feeling to think of James and what had been good. Now she just remembered that it was over. She'd have to think of other memories later. Ones of the other Potters, Dakota, Lorcan, or others she knew cared about her. Anyone but James.

* * *

All of the books Lorcan collected on Gypsies and Gypsy magic were scattered around him and Lily in the loft of the barn. His dad had opened the roof for them, with a warning to Lorcan that he would be checked on if it was getting too late. With a blush he nodded and waited for his dad to leave before bringing the books in.

Lily sat across from him, cross legged and in shorts and a simple tank top. Her hair was down, but she kept messing with it, pushing strands behind her ears as they got in the way of her reading. "You know, it's kind of obnoxious how each of these say the same thing. Which is nothing," she said, closing another book and sighing.

"I'm getting the impression they're a very secretive community," Lorcan agreed. He flipped through his own book. What had been exciting new information a week ago turned out to be the only information that seemed to exist.

"Well, fine, except how do we find out where Imogen is?" Lily said. This had become the renewed focus for Lily. She was still worried that Imogen had changed her mind, which created more urgency to figure out Imogen's location. With the arrival of Hogwarts letters and O.W.L. results that morning, Lorcan couldn't help but wonder if Imogen had decided not to return. Lorcan was trying to prepare himself for what it might mean if Imogen didn't come back, but Lily threw herself into the research, determined to find Imogen and convince her. "You know how much trouble I'm in if my family finds out about the mirror and I don't know how to track Imogen down, right?"

Lorcan looked at her. Lily was normally carefree and enthusiastic, but here, her wide brown eyes were filled with worry. "We'll find her," Lorcan said. "Didn't you say your dad's workers had figured out about… what was his name?"

"Hal, yeah," Lily said. "And Dad let James go with Broker on some kind of discovery mission tonight, but they haven't figured out anything else about him and they have no clue about the Gypsies."

"Then… next week," Lorcan suggested. "Next week, if they still aren't on the right track, we tell them everything."

"I'm so dead," Lily groaned.

"I'll … I'll be with you when you tell them," Lorcan promised. He didn't really feel like facing James under the circumstances, but for Imogen and Lily he would do it. "We'll tell them together."

Lily sighed and picked up another book.

Lorcan looked up at the night sky every now and again, keeping track of the time. When they'd been through everything there, Lily was more relaxed. They figured out a couple more facts, like if the graveyard of a Gypsy clan could be found, their location wasn't far off either. Also, their protection spells would allow non-Gypsies to come in, but they wouldn't be able to leave except by permission of the leaders of a clan.

"I guess you should be getting back to your grandparents'?" Lorcan asked.

"Yes, but I did have one more question." Lorcan raised his eyebrows as he looked at Lily. "Why haven't you kissed me yet?"

Lorcan swallowed and froze. His heart beat faster and his palms suddenly felt sweaty. If he thought he was over being nervous around Lily, the words she just spoke proved him terribly wrong. She watched him, waiting for an answer, but he couldn't find any words to string together.

"I mean, you do like me, right?"

His whole face was on fire. "I-i-imogen t-told you?"

Lily gave a small smile. She had a glint in her eye. "No," she said. "She didn't have to. I suspected you might at the start of last year. But you never actually asked me out. And I didn't know if we really had anything in common, but this summer has proved me wrong about that."

She stopped talking again, but Lorcan could barely breathe. _Words, you idiot, use words!_

"Anyway," Lily said, looking down at her hands folded in front of her. She bit her bottom lip. "I just thought it would be a shame for you to have brought two different girls up to the loft of the barn and not gotten anything for your trouble either time."

Lily's eyes met his and he still couldn't will himself to speak. He couldn't move as she pushed herself forward. Lorcan was sure his heart would burst of out his chest at any moment. Her lips met his, slow and gentle. He had just closed his eyes and started to move his own lips when Lily pulled back. His eyes shot open and he watched with his mouth agape as Lily stood and skipped down the loft steps and out of sight.

Lorcan swallowed. She'd kissed him. _She'd kissed him._ And he had been a complete prat. Lorcan scrambled to his feet, slipping on the loose straw of the loft floor. She was well ahead of him, a good portion of the yard had been covered by the time he got to the barn door. "Lily!" he shouted. She stopped and turned around.

Before he could think of what to do or what to say he walked right up to her. His hands were hanging down by his sides. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers, eyes shut tight. He didn't move, but stood there, his lips touching Lily's. It was wrong, all wrong. He was doing terribly and he knew it. He'd gotten all nine O.W.L.s, but confronted with the one thing he had daydreamed about as long as he could remember, and he was clueless.

Lorcan pulled back and opened his eyes. Lily was looking up at him, smiling beautifully. Fireflies were coming out and he could swear a dozen or so were circling her head to form a halo.

Lorcan ran a hand through his hair, scratching his head. "I-I-I don't know w-what I'm doing."

Lily's smile widened. "That's okay," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing his hands. She guided them, wrapping them around her waist. She stretched her arms around his neck. "I'll show you."

This time he followed her lead, closing his eyes and feeling how her lips moved.

* * *

 _Imogen Dahl_

The script on the envelope seemed to stare up at Ginny. When three owls arrived that morning, Lily grabbed hers, Albus his, and then everyone stopped what they were doing, looking down at the third, unclaimed envelope against the wooden grain of the table. It was a full minute before James leaned in to grab it. Ginny pulled it his from his hand.

"Imogen should see her scores first," Ginny said. She walked over to the china cabinet and placed the envelope on the top shelf. "I'll just put this up here for when she gets back."

Everyone else exchanged glances. Eventually, Lily and Albus opened their own. Ginny couldn't get the owl off her mind, though, carrying it around all day. In the afternoon, she had walked into Imogen's room, placing it on her pillow, only to go get it half an hour later. Even now she flipped it back and forth as Harry brushed his teeth.

Ginny heard the water shut off and Harry came into the room, sitting beside her on the bed. "Why don't you open it?"

"It's addressed to Imogen," Ginny said. "We always let them open their school letters."

Harry reached over, pulling it from her fingers. "Then you need to get your mind off of it." He dropped the envelope onto his night stand, leaning over and kissing her jawline. Ginny put a hand on his neck and he was wrapping her up in his arms as she looked over to the table, staring at the envelope. He pulled away, sighing. "Ginny, just open it."

She sat up straighter as Harry grabbed the letter, handing it back over to her. Ginny opened the seal, pulling out the papers and reading. "She got all her O.W.L.s," she said. Tears developed in her eyes as she put a hand to her mouth. "E in Arithmancy. The rest are O's."

"You know, when I made the ten galleons per O.W.L. deal with James, I didn't realize the others would bankrupt me," Harry said with a smile.

Ginny let out something between a sob and a laugh. "We didn't have Imogen with us when you made that promise, though I warned you we'd be paying out with Al."

Harry leaned over and kissed her cheek. "I'm just glad there was no such agreement for N.E.W.T.s. So, something for Albus for making Headboy, ninety galleons to Imogen for O.W.L.s—"

"And Lily's Captain for Gryffindor this year," Ginny added.

"Think we should get her some new equipment?"

"I'll see if there's something she wants. Gloves or… maybe some shoes. Nimbus has been wanting me to review their latest, so I could probably get it for less if Lily wants a new broom."

"Big year for all of them," Harry said.

Ginny began to cry, leaning forward and clutching the letter to her chest. Harry leaned in, an arm around her and waited for her to get through the worst of it. When she was through, Ginny gingerly folded the letter and grades back to how they were, placing them into the envelope.

Harry turned Ginny towards him, kissing her and holding her face. "We are going to find Imogen," he promised. "Carver and I are going to Belarus tomorrow. Hopefully this time it's a good lead."

Ginny nodded. "I know. I'm just sorry you have to spend your birthday there."

"I'm not," Harry said. "Especially if I can bring her back."

Ginny turned, opening the drawer to her own nightstand and placing Imogen's letter in there to keep safe. "We'll celebrate properly when everyone's home."

"Yes, well, I don't know if it makes me callous to point out that Lily is at your parents, Albus is with Bill's family at the Quidditch match, and James is with Broker in Scotland... I was kind of hoping we could celebrate a bit before I leave in the morning."

"Always with the subtle propositions, Harry," she teased. They didn't often have alone time in the summers. Ginny smiled at Harry and nodded, trying to forget the one he didn't mention and why she wasn't home tonight either.

* * *

Broker finished another story about the drills, activities, and his other experiences at the academy and ordered a second round of drinks. James was smiling—something he hadn't done much since the first week of summer. "No way!" he shouted over the din of the pub. "You seriously animated all the gargoyles in the academy?"

Broker laughed. "Yeah," he said. "I don't recommend doing anything like that. Me and Jenkins nearly got booted."

They were still in Scotland grabbing a late dinner and drinks. The guy named Hal that Imogen had disappeared with was nearly impossible to find information on. They had found only one small lead that placed a Scot named Hal Gramae in a small wizarding village on an island. Coming here, they'd figured out very little. Hal had left at the age of twelve with his sister after his mother died. An elderly neighbor to the family told them the story, though mostly she just paused every minute or so to say, "Those poor, poor dears. Have you found them?"

Broker kept telling her no. James was starting to realize how much patience it took to be an auror. Between interviews and following this sort of information that seemed to lead nowhere, there was a lot of waiting and hoping, and far less immediate action than James used to think was included in the work. The only solid information was they were able to find a picture the woman had that they could compare to the older, memory version of Hal. Even without that James was certain the two were one in the same.

"I'll keep that advice in mind, if I ever get in," James responded, reaching for the chips in front of him.

"'Course you'll get in," Broker said.

"I still have to retake the Herbology test."

"Half the aurors in the department had to retake something, James," Broker said. "I had to retake my Defense exams."

"No way! Really?"

"Yup," Broker said, taking a deep drink. "I had a professor tell me not to bother and go into something else. Maybe general security detail for other departments. But I knew what I wanted, so I went for it."

James nodded. As much as he still wanted to be an auror, he couldn't stop thinking of something he wanted more. Imogen. He'd thought a lot about what his mother said to him. Things _would_ be different. He realized she was right, but he could manage different if he could be with Imogen again. What worried him was if she came back and he had to let it be different in a way that meant watching her move onto others. James wasn't sure he could handle it. He couldn't imagine shifting into a brotherly role. Worse than that was if it were different in the sense that she didn't come back at all.

James wiped at the condensation on his mug. "What if you can't go for what you want? What if it's not up to you?"

"Thinking of your girl, huh?" Broker said. He set down his own glass and leaned forward. "Women are a tricky area, James. But generally you just have to wait and see where things are at."

"My parents don't get it," James told him. "I mean, how could they? My mum was in love with Dad since she was ten, and they've been together since Hogwarts. Even when they did break it off it wasn't because of something either of them did."

"You know, I always thought my parents had this perfect relationship. They always did everything together. Then a couple years ago my mum told me about a time when I was young that she left my dad for a few months because he'd been a heavy drinker and she wasn't having any of it. She took me and my brother to her parents. I vaguely remember it. We spent the summer with them, I think. Point is, we rarely know all the fights our parents went through to get to where they are. I think your parents understand more than you think."

"That still doesn't help me with Imogen," James said.

"Sorry, mate," Broker said. "It's something you and Imogen have to figure out together. For now all we can do is find her. The rest will come after that."

James nodded. He'd hoped for a more satisfying answer, but James supposed he knew there wasn't one. Broker suggested they get rooms at the inn for the night. Once alone, James sat on his bed for a while, thinking. His mind sifted through various memories of Imogen and their time together. He remembered one particular day early in his sixth year when Imogen came out to watch him run Quidditch trials. The whole thing had been more difficult and exhausting than he had thought it would be. Imogen just waited in the stands, studying and occasionally watching. When he'd dismissed everyone, he flew over, landing on the bench, then hopped down to sit beside her.

"You're a really good leader," Imogen said to him.

He didn't feel like one. He leaned his elbows on his knees. "I swear, I'd much rather organize a party than a team."

"You'll be organizing tons of those when your team wins all the games this year," Imogen replied with a smile. "But I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anyone in Ravenclaw I said so."

James smiled, leaned over, and kissed her quickly. "Catching up on classwork?"

"Uh, no," Imogen said. She closed the book and James saw that it was a Quidditch strategy book. "I thought I could help you come up with a couple plays to start. I was watching the players that seemed to have promise. The book has suggestions based on the team strengths and everything. Not that I get all of it, but I think I have a better idea now."

James's heart felt light as Imogen went on to describe everything she was thinking. He'd never quite thought through the benefits of having a brainy girlfriend, but was starting to appreciate it now more than ever. "You're amazing," he told her when she finished. He pulled her into him and kissed her deeply. "I love you so much."

It was ironic, James thought, that if it were someone else missing, Imogen would be much better at finding them than he was. He wished he could tell her. He wished he could talk about the memory with Imogen and let her know how much it still meant to him that she had put aside her own work to help him.

Unable to sleep, James searched the drawers at the inn for parchment, a quill, and some ink. Sitting at the rickety desk, he thought through everything again in his mind.

 _Dear Imogen,_

He looked at the words, trying to figure out where to go from here. He couldn't actually send the letter. His mum had tried to send Peregrine with a note a little over a week before, though they all knew it wouldn't work if Imogen didn't want to be found. The owl had come back two days later with the envelope still attached.

Still, he needed to put these thoughts somewhere. And if she did come back, maybe this was a better way to articulate how he felt than anything else.

 _I think there came a point I forgot just how wonderful you are. Remember how nervous I was to be captain? But I knew I could do it because you had faith in me._

James wrote until he ran out of thoughts. He'd filled three pages.

* * *

Another four days and Imogen was using magic in a way she never thought possible. Sabina put her through one task after another. Outside of these, Imogen would sometimes use spells as she'd learned them, but she didn't need them anymore. Memories, too, were finding their way back. She remembered a game her papa played with her when he was tired. He'd lay in the center of the living room as she ran around and around his form. "Can't catch me!" she would say. "Can't catch me, Papa!"

He'd just smile, reach out his hand and pull her to him using his casting. She would squeal and he'd catch her in his arms, tickling her until she couldn't breathe.

She remembered her mother spending an hour each night telling her stories and brushing Imogen's hair. Imogen remembered baking cookies with her mum as well.

There were also harder memories that came to her. Imogen didn't know how, but she always knew she was the first of the three of them to realize what the compound was. The second night after seeing what she could do, Imogen remembered the evening she pulled her parents from the Imperius Curse. They were worried, panicked even. Her father kept kneeling in front of her, asking if she was alright. He was never satisfied by her answer. Imogen suddenly remembered being eleven and frightened of how he reacted. Her papa, who never seemed afraid of anything, was worried. She knew that whatever the compound was, it was bad.

The one type of memory that hadn't come back was any time her father may have told her they were Gypsies. Imogen wasn't sure of what to make of that, except to think that at some point it would to come to her.

Even through the progress that was being made, Imogen was worried about how little time there was left in the summer.

It had to be the third or fourth of August by now, though it could be later. She had probably missed Harry's birthday, but if she got going now, she could do something for Ginny's birthday. Her own was at the end of the month, but she didn't expect that to be celebrated after the trouble she had been for them this summer.

Working herself up all day, Imogen went to see Sabina well after dark. Dinner had happened hours before and almost everyone else had gone into their wagons. Imogen knocked on the main wagon, Valda opening the door for her.

"Vat is it?" Sabina asked from behind Valda.

"I'm sorry it's so late," Imogen said. Nerves bubbled in her stomach.

"Come, sit," Sabina said.

Valda moved aside and Imogen took a chair across from Sabina. Valda went over to the nook, grabbing a glass. "Ze special vine, Valda," Sabina instructed, then looked to Imogen as Valda shuffled around, filling the glasses. Imogen swallowed as she thought of how to begin.

"I have loved being here," Imogen said. "And I want to come back. But I have things to finish back in England."

Sabina's lips thinned. "You still vish to attend a school for vizards vhen you are so much more zhan zem?"

"Yes," Imogen said. "I… I think I still have a lot I can learn there."

"And you vish to give your friends Gypsy secrets?" Sabina said. Her voice was becoming low and dangerous.

"No, of course not," Imogen said. "The family I live with there… I h-have to tell them something. But I know they will understand that I can't tell them everything. I won't tell them where the clan is. Just that I found where my papa was from." She had thought through all this before coming to Sabina. What to tell the Potters, what they would accept. "Besides, I'm of age in the wizarding world at the end of the month. I can come back for part of next summer. I _want_ to come back. But I also told them I would be back there, too."

Sabina watched her, her expression severe. Valda looked between the two two of them, a concerned glance, Imogen's cup still in her hand as she stood by Sabina. The old woman's dark expression broke into a warmer smile. "Of course," she said. "You must keep your promises. As long as you promise not to share vat you learned here—"

"No, I won't," Imogen said.

Sabina nodded. "Zen tomorrow perhaps Hal can make you a call. Send you back zair."

Imogen relaxed and took a deep breath. "Thank you for understanding."

"Yes, yes," Sabina said. "Let us drink to ze time you could spend vith us, child."

Valda hesitated, stepping over and handing Imogen the glass. Imogen smiled at Sabina. "Thank you for everything," she said.

"Of course, child," Sabina said. She raised her glass and Imogen followed the gesture.

Imogen sipped at the almost familiar taste of the drink that was so often served at the bonfires and evening celebrations of the clan. There was something behind this, though. It was an aftertaste Imogen didn't recognize. The back of her throat started to tingle and her head felt light. Imogen looked up at Valda, who looked back, horrified. Then the world went black.


	10. The Ceremony

_**The Ceremony**_

When Imogen woke, she was in a small dark space. Her head was still foggy, but she felt around, her heart racing as she realized she was trapped. The door, though barely visible, was familiar. She'd only ever seen it from the outside, but she was sure it was the same as the door to the loft room of Sabina's wagon. There was a small window that let in a shaft of light and some air. Imogen pointed her hands towards the door and concentrated. Nothing happened. She placed her hands on the walls. There was a gentle vibration of magic and she knew there was some charm that blocked her own.

Imogen heard voices below.

"You said she vasn't ready," Tibor's voice boomed.

"Ve can't vait," Sabina said. "It vill have to do."

"But if she can use all her magic—"

"Do you understand ze danger in zat?" Juris interrupted Tibor. "Ve can have enough now."

"Ve don't have a choice," Sabina said. "Come. She is avake and listening." Imogen pushed herself back in the small, box-like room, sitting against the other wall. "Let us make preparations avay from here. Vatch her, Valda."

Imogen buried her face in her hands, taking deep breaths. Right now wasn't the time to break down. She had to think.

Imogen knew James had some method for breaking through locks the muggle way. She had never seen the point of learning, but now she wished she had. She scooted close to the door, pressing her palm up against the keyhole. If only she could use just a little magic, Imogen knew she could open it, but nothing came. After trying for over an hour, she gave up, leaning back against the wall, hoping a plan would come to mind.

* * *

Imogen fell asleep sitting up. She didn't know if she'd been asleep for five minutes or five hours, but a clank of the lock jolted her awake. She pushed back against the floor, scrambling away, expecting to see Tibor.

The door flew open and Imogen was ready to kick at the arms reaching through. "Imogen, it's us!" Harper's urgent, whispered voice calmed her. The dim light rimmed Harper's dark hair. "It's okay!"

Imogen was still unsure. Slowly she calmed, moving forward and Harper grabbed her arm, pulling her out. Hal was just behind Harper, giving Imogen a hand down the ladder as her legs shook dangerously. She stopped when she saw Valda at the bottom. "I von't hurt you," Valda said. She looked nervous, her eyebrows knit as she looked toward the window. She had Imogen's satchel in her hand. "Ve must leave now," Valda said.

"Just trust us," Hal growled.

Imogen took the last few steps, her legs threatening to collapse under her, and reached out for her bag. The four of them made their way out of the wagon, Hal taking the lead as they moved through the caravan strategically. They were nearly to the forest's edge when Imogen stoppd. "The pictures," she said. She turned around.

"There's no time!" Hal snapped, but Imogen had already summoned the box sitting under the bed in her wagon. Hal had just grabbed her arm when the box flew into Imogen's shaky hands.

She dropped to her knees quickly and opened the top, reaching indiscriminately for a handful of the photographs, putting the lid back on and stuffing it behind the back wheel of the wagon they were behind. Imogen stuffed what she had into her bag.

"Great, now that you have those maybe you could help us not get killed," Hal snapped at her. In the dim moonlight, Imogen saw the veins on his temple pulsing.

"What do they want?" Imogen finally asked.

"Not now," Valda said, pushing Imogen along.

They were past the garden and through the paddock. Harper clung to Hal's arm, both of them carrying a small bag of their own. Valda was the only one without anything. Imogen wondered if she was planning to come back.

"If we can get to the cemetery, I can make a call and—"

Hal didn't finish as various colored sparks were shot their direction. One hit Hal in the arm and Harper blocked him as he winced. Imogen threw her hands towards the others, creating a shield in front of them. Hal pushed himself to stand tall. Three more streams of light bounced from her shield as one figure appeared across the field from the trees.

More spells were shot from the left. Imogen moved one hand to create another shield, backing up to hold both as a second figure emerged. Hal and Harper had both brought out their wands, standing back to back, waiting. Valda had nothing in hand. Imogen suddenly felt worried for her. Imogen had never seen her use magic and it only just occurred to her it was because Valda couldn't

As she thought this, a shadow came around a wide trunk, jinxing Valda so her limbs were stiffened and she fell into their arms, helpless. Imogen abandoned the shields and shot a spell at the hooded figure holding onto Valda, throwing the person sideways. Imogen pulled on Valda to keep her upright, then freed her from the jinx. Hal and Harper both threw spells of their own as Imogen ran forward to stay next to Valda and protect her. Imogen didn't make it as someone grabbed her from behind, pressing her palms together, and gripping her arm tightly. "Zis is familiar," Tibor's delighted voice boomed in her ear and Imogen struggled against him, as impotent to his strength as she had been that first night.

"Let them go!" she shouted as she was turned around to see Juris holding Harper, who was in tears, and Mihails with a knife at Hal's throat. "Please, let them go!"

"Zey do not vish to miss ze ceremony," Sabina's voice came from behind Imogen. She turned enough to watch as Sabina flicked her wand and lifted a struggling Valda, binding her hands and directing her towards Hal and Harper. The sky slowly lightened to new shades of blue. "It is almost sunrise. Ve vondered vhat vas taking so long."

Sabina's attention was directly on Valda, who she dropped to the dew sprinkled ground. Valda landed on her hands and knees. Her beautiful face turned up to Sabina, her wide eyes pleading. "Sabina, spare ze girl!"

Sabina tsked at Valda, squatting down to her level. "You vere supposed to serve me, Valda," Sabina said. "Do you forget how I helped you? Do you forget ze years I gave back?"

"And you vould take those years from Imogen! Ze vay you took years from Harper!"

"No, no," Sabina said. "I took nothing but a tribute owed."

"I von't let you!" Valda said as Sabina turned toward her. "I von't!"

"Remember how you vanted your husband dead? You vanted your youth? You knew, Valda, vat came vith zat." Sabina and Valda stared at each other for several minutes. Sabina looked like she would turn and walk away again. At the last moment, she slashed her wand across Valda's body.

"No!" Imogen screamed. Nothing happened for a moment. Then Valda's eyes widened and her features seemed to melt. Her eyes sunk in, her soft, tight skin became loose and creased, and her body thinned and aged. Valda's thick auburn hair greyed and frizzed, thinning as Imogen struggled uselessly against Tibor. In a moment, Valda was old and decrepit. With a last, sad look at Imogen, she fell to the ground, lifeless. "No, Valda," Imogen cried. "Please!"

"Don't vorry, child," Sabina said. "She has lived two lifetimes. Now, ve must ready you."

Tibor lifted Imogen as she kicked. Mihails and Juris took Hal and Harper's wands. Hal grabbed onto his sister and complied as they were pushed forward at Mihail's knife point. Imogen looked over as they passed Valda's body, trying to find some sign of life in her vacant eyes.

They were ushered into a space Imogen hadn't seen in her time here. There was a small waterfall and a stream. A glow of light barely broke through the ring of trees around them. "Quickly!" Sabina demanded.

It was as though the moment were choreographed. Mihail kept his attention on Hal, who stepped in front of Harper, simultaneously becoming a line of defense and holding her back as well. Juris walked over and grabbed one of Imogen's arms from Tibor and together they stretched her arms out, forcing her palms up at the wrist. Even if she threw a spell, it wouldn't go anywhere that would free her or the others.

"Please, please," Imogen said over and over.

Sabina approached her, patting her cheek. "Vhen you receive a gift, you must give in return," she said quietly. "Your sacrifice vill strengthen us. It vill strengthen the clan."

She pulled out a knife of her own—short and silver—and moved it quickly, running its tip deeply into Imogen's left hand.

Imogen screamed. The pain in her hand was made worse as she felt that reserve inside her, the one that gave her power, begin to empty. She vaguely registered that Harper, too, was yelling, but she couldn't concentrate on anything but Sabina pulling a wooden bowl out, collecting the dripping blood.

Hurt and betrayal built in Imogen's chest and when she screamed again, the earth beneath them shook. A light far brighter than the one breaking through with the sunrise flashed and Imogen was free. She fell to the ground, pulling her cut hand into her, pressing it to her chest and neck, trying to find a pressure that would make the pain stop.

"Come on!" Hal was over her, tugging on her elbow.

She looked up. Tibor, Juris, Mihails, and Sabina were all unconscious, sprawled in various positions on the leaf covered ground. Imogen sobbed and closed in on herself.

"Now!" he shouted, tugging hard.

Imogen tried to follow, taking it one step at a time. Harper was on her other side, holding onto her. Hal reached across, giving Harper one of the wands he must have grabbed back from Juris. They staggered through the woods when from their right Masek whinnied, cantering through the trees towards them.

They stopped as Masek arrived, kneeling for them. Hal pushed Imogen on first, then Harper. He hesitated a moment, then climbed on the very back. They sat tightly, Imogen wrapping her hand in Masek's mane. Her blood didn't stain as she expected. Instead, it seemed to absorb it and the pain lessened to a dull throb. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Imogen remembered that unicorn hair could be used for binding wounds, Masek's hair must do the same.

What relieved her more was the distance they gained between themselves and the others. Occasionally Hal cursed as he was forced to hold on when Masek turned or changed speed. They rode until the sun was over the horizon. Masek slowed to a trot, finding a large willow tree whose leaves swept the ground. Masek went through the branches, then laid down for them to get off.

Hal jumped off and Harper soon followed. Imogen rested her whole body against Masek's neck, wrapping her arms around him. "Thank you, Masek," she said, her face pressed against his mane. He bobbed his head in response.

Imogen stood, pressing her still cut hand against her leg. The bleeding, at least, seemed to have stopped. Masek stood, running back the way he had brought them.

"He has to live within the magical bounds of the Gypsies," Hal said.

Imogen looked over. Harper was shaking, crying by the tree's trunk and he knelt beside her, tenderly rubbing her back.

"What do we do now?" Imogen asked. That last burst had drained her magic, or nearly so. She was having trouble feeling anything that might help.

"We take turns sleeping. Harper's first," Hal insisted. Harper shook her head in protest. "I have a potion, and we need you well rested in a bit, Harper."

"Go ahead," Imogen nodded her approval.

Harper looked over to Hal, still uncertain. "Where they took us is only open at sunrise and sunset. We'll be safe here until evening," he said. He reached for his bag, pulling out a flask. Harper looked at Imogen one last time, took a drink and tucked herself into the curve of a large tree root. Hal rubbed her back and sang. Imogen hadn't heard him sing before. Like Harper, his voice was clear and strong. He sang in a medium range and Imogen sat nearby, leaning against the trunk.

Her hands still shook as she pulled out a shirt from her satchel. She ripped off a segment, balling it up to hold onto. The cut still throbbed and clutching her hand in a fist helped a little.

Hal came to sit beside her once Harper was fast asleep. "I don't have anything for that," he said. "It took Harper's cuts months to close all the way."

"Why did they do this to her?" Imogen asked. "To us?"

Hal swallowed, looking over to where his sister slept. "Sabina has been in charge of the clan for a few hundred years now."

"A few hundred?"

Hal nodded. "Centuries ago, wizards would perform the ceremony to rob gypsies of their gifts because they feared them. Seers could go undetected, but the others were found easily. Gypsies went into hiding, but Sabina realized something. When others with gifts were cut in light of dawn with a silver blade, she was strengthened. She started doing it on her own. Others, like my father and Valda, helped her in exchange for power or favors."

"Valda was—"

"Older than she looked, yes. She did whatever Sabina wanted in exchange for her youth and beauty. And the death of her husband."

Imogen shook her head. This was so much more than she could take in. "So you found me knowing this is what they'd do?"

Hal cleared his throat, stalling. "You have to understand...we'd lived there for years. Sabina taught us everything. Everything our mother hadn't told us. She made us stronger and better at using our gift. Then… one morning in January, I woke up and Harper was gone. Tibor said he wanted to show her where our mother loved to spend time. She followed him and they ambushed her. She was helpless Imogen! Completely helpless!" He was getting worked up telling her. Fury mixed with guilt in his voice. "I… I lost it when I saw her hands. They locked me up. Not for hours, like you, but for weeks. I didn't know what was happening to Harper. Then they let me see her. Her hands were wrapped. Her magic was gone. Sabina made me a deal." Hal swallowed again. "Harper and I would live if I found you." He looked over to Imogen. "I didn't know who you were. I didn't know you were our cousin."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't tell you outright," Hal said. Defensiveness seeped into his tone. "Sabina would have sensed you knew and we all would have been dead. But I tried to give you hints… I tried to get you to think about why your father made you forget… you didn't want to hear it."

Imogen clenched her jaw. She thought Hal had been trying to make her feel worse. Why hadn't she realized? How did she miss it? She knew the reason as she thought on it… she'd been desperate to know who her father was. She'd been blind in hopes of seeing. "She killed our grandparents, didn't she?"

Hal nodded. "I think so. There was a... sort of prophesy. A prophesy that there were two girls to be born to the clan so gifted, they could provide eternal power—one caster, one caller. They thought it was our grandmother and my mum. But grandmama was too strong already. So they got rid of her and watched your father closely, believing he would have a daughter to fill the caster role."

"Then Dahl took him."

"I think Dahl was trying to save him," Hal said. "He knew Sabina's plans and tried to thwart her. Then my father married my mother under Sabina's orders. After Harper was born, my mum realized their interest in Harper and took us away to Scotland."

"Then why did you stay after you brought me back?"

"I thought if we could defeat Sabina, Harper might regain what she lost," he said. Birds chirped in the leaves around them, singing a happy song that didn't match this story. "Imogen, you can't imagine it. Harper was amazing at calling. I had to travel until I sensed you. I had to have a description from Sabina. Harper could have called for you without a thought, without leaving the clan. She could have told you how to follow it. She doesn't complain, but she misses it. And I hoped… but I was wrong."

They sat in silence for several minutes. Imogen adjusted the fabric in her hand. Whatever Masek's mane had done for her, the effects were fading. "So what now?" Imogen asked.

"Now… I take Harper somewhere safe," Hal made eye contact with Imogen. "This is where we say goodbye."

It was like a stab to the heart. Imogen swallowed and closed her eyes.

"If it were just you and me it wouldn't matter," Hal said quickly. "But you're marked and they're going to find you, and… I can't put Harper in that situation."

Imogen nodded, still not saying anything.

"Imogen, I'm sorry. If they'd finished I don't think it would matter, but they can't use anyone else without finishing the ceremony now that they started. Sabina isn't going to let you go so easily."

The consequences of this weighed heavier as she thought through it. She wasn't safe anywhere. No one with her was safe. Not as long as Sabina wanted her. Imogen stood. "I… I better leave before Harper wakes," she said.

Hal stood as well, catching her arm. "Take this," he said. He used his hands, creating a green orb of light. Unlike the other times, where it continued to float unconstrained, Hal did something else, condensing the light to a smaller space, grabbing it like a ball and placing it in Imogen's good hand. "When you decide where to go, concentrate on the place and it will take you. England or anywhere else."

Imogen nodded and placed the ball into her satchel. She didn't look back as she walked out, between the willow's leaves. Imogen didn't know where to go. She just knew she needed to get away from here.

* * *

James rubbed his eyes as he walked into the kitchen. It was nine o'clock, and everyone else was halfway through breakfast. He grabbed his plate and filled it with pancakes. They were all going to Bath today. There was an old muggle library there with a basement full of records. A woman in Godfrey's employ worked for an orphanage in a village outside of Bath at one point, and his mum was sure if they could find the orphanage records they could finally find Imogen's mother. Being a muggle place, they'd have to do everything by hand, so everyone was supposed to go. He looked across the table at Lily. She was staring down in her lap with a drained expression and tired eyes.

"Lily?" Ginny asked. Lily looked up, her eyes large and worried. "Are you alright, sweetheart? You look peaky."

Lily nodded. "I didn't sleep well," she said.

Ginny leaned over the table, placing the back of her hand on Lily's forehead. "You're not warm, but a bit clammy. Why don't you stay behind today?"

Lily waited a moment, then nodded, pushing her plate away.

James noticed the compact mirror in her hand as she stood from the table. His eyes narrowed, wondering when she'd made a habit of carrying that thing around with her. She certainly had been obsessed with it this summer.

* * *

"Lorcan?" Lily's voice came from his tin within his desk drawer. "Lorcan? Are you there?"

Locan pulled open the drawer. "Hold on," he said. He stepped over to his bedroom door, cracking it open. He heard his family down in the living room and shut the door again. "What is it?"

"Lorcan, she's hurt," Lily's voice was distressed. "Something happened and Imogen was… she was crying… screaming…"

"What?"

"I don't know!" Lily said. "Oh, Lorcan, I could only see her face, but someone was holding her, I think! Early this morning! I woke up and couldn't sleep, so I looked... it was... four... or five o'clock."

It was nearly nine now. He sat, eyes darting as he tried to make sense of this change in events. "And now?"

"She's by a tree," Lily said. He could picture Lily, pacing her room and looking at the mirror, watching Imogen. "There's dried blood all over her neck!"

"Wait, blood?"

"Lorcan, what do I tell my parents?" Lily asked.

He shook his head, unsure of what to make of what Lily was saying. Lorcan swallowed.

"Lorcan? What do I do?"

* * *

James kept eating, pieces of a puzzle that had been in front of him were finally coming together. Lily certain didn't look like herself, but it wasn't like she was sick. Her eyes were wide and alert, not like someone suffering from the flu.

"Actually, James," Ginny said, putting some papers into her purse. "I'd feel better if you could stay behind and make sure she takes something if she's sick."

"Sure, Mum," James said. "I'll keep an eye on her."

"Thanks, sweetheart. It will probably take longer, too. We may be home late," Ginny looked to Albus. "Ready?"

"Sure," he said.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Lily seemed to start on about something from her room. He waited at the kitchen window, watching Albus and his mum walk down the path. As soon as they apparated, he quietly went towards Lily's room. She was practically yelling at this point.

"… she was crying… screaming… I don't know!" Lily said. Her voice fluctuated so that James couldn't hear all of it, but there was enough that James felt all the blood drain from his face. There was some other noise James couldn't pin, but she seemed to be talking to someone. Her voice was panicked. "...holding her, I think! Last night!...There's dried blood all over her neck! Lorcan? What do I do?"

James's temples pounded as he slammed the door open. Lily, already pale and shaky, turned around, a tin in one hand, the open compact mirror in the other.

"Get out!" she yelled at James, but he strode forward. She dropped the tin as he lunged for the mirror. She closed it and held it away from him, dodging his first grab. He pulled out his wand, pointing it at her.

 _Levicorpus,_ he thought and Lily was jerked up and over her bed, her hands hanging down. She still fought as he grabbed her around the waist with one arm, reaching down and jerking the mirror out of her hands with his other. He let Lily go and she unceremoniously dropped to her bed, the springs bouncing as she fought against the awkward position she landed in.

"Give it back!"

James opened the mirror. There, with the blood on her neck that his sister had mentioned, was Imogen. She sat with her knees tucked up into her chest, teeth gritted with her hands balled up, the right one over the left. Lily tugged on his arm, trying to grab the mirror back. He turned on her, grabbing her upper arm forcefully. "What is this?"

"It's mine! Imogen gave it to me!"

"When?" he demanded. Lily's steady anger faltered at this question. "She gave this to you the night she left didn't she?" Lily didn't answer. "Didn't she?!"

"I promised I wouldn't tell," she spat at him.

" _You promised_?!" James shouted right in her face, shaking her with each statement. "I can't _believe_ you! We could have figured out where she was! We could have known what she looked like before we saw her at Diagon Alley! But you _promised_? Do you get what you've done?"

Lily took in a deep breath like she was about to shout again. Instead she dissolved into tears, lunging forward and throwing herself around James's middle, burying her face into his shoulder. "She's h-hurt, James!" she sobbed.

James swallowed back his anger, letting go of Lily's arm as he wrapped her in his own. He didn't trust himself to say anything, but kept watching Imogen through the mirror behind Lily's back as he held tight to his sister. Imogen's face was smudged with dirt and the shirt she wore was torn at the shoulder seam. James couldn't take his eyes off the dried blood at her neck. Was it hers? If so, where was she bleeding from? He felt sick. "I'm s-sorry," Lily said. "I'm s-so s-sorry! W-we have to find h-her!" Lily hiccupped between each statement.

"Just calm down," James said, though he felt like storming from the house right now. Of course it wouldn't do any good. There was still no way to know where Imogen was based on what was in the mirror. "And tell me what you know."

James had to find a calming draught for Lily before she was comprehensible. She told him about when Imogen had left, what her and Lorcan had learned about Imogen's connection with Gypsies, and how she had been fine before last night. She broke down again as she explained what she'd witnessed in the mirror, throwing out half a dozen scenarios of what might be outside the frame that showed Imogen's face. "It was blank for several minutes," Lily said. "There was a bright light, then nothing… I thought…"

Lily didn't have to finish the sentence. She'd thought Imogen was dead. Who knew what this mirror would do if that did happen. A blank white light seemed as possible as anything else. "Get some sleep," James finally told her.

"I can't," Lily said. "Can I just watch the mirror with you?"

James sighed. He crawled onto Lily's bed, his sister following as they both sat against the wall, legs stretched out in front of them. Nothing happened. Imogen had wrapped her left hand in some fabric, which was only a slight comfort to James to think it was just a cut hand. They still hadn't seen what kind of cut or how deep. How much blood had she lost? She looked pale, but she was walking now, making her way through some kind of forest.

Despite Lily's insistence that she couldn't sleep, in about an hour she nodded off on James's shoulder. He left her there for a while longer until something changed in the mirror. Imogen had stopped. After about a minute her face was tinted green, though he couldn't tell why. A little longer and Imogen began to cry.

James looked at her sister, carefully moving her so she laid on her pillow instead of him. He walked into the living room, pacing and hoping for something to make sense. The green disappeared and Imogen looked uncertain as she moved forward, swallowing. She was talking to someone. It was a few minutes before another face came into the frame. When it did, James stopped. He recognized who she was talking to.

* * *

Imogen walked for hours trying to decide what to do, stopping only when her hand was in too much pain for her to do much else. She'd stop by a tree, clutch it tightly until the pain became tolerable and then continue.

Her first thought was to go back to the Potter's, of course, but as soon as she thought it she knew she couldn't. If anyone she was around was at risk, they were last people she wanted near her. The thought of Tibor grabbing Lily or Sabina killing Ginny as easily as she did Valda made Imogen feel short of breath. Even enlisting Harry's help as an auror was problematic. Getting any wizarding force involved would mean not only trouble for Sabina and those that worked with her, but the entire clan. There were so many kind, good people there that wouldn't understand. No, she couldn't go back anymore, which was the worst conclusion she could imagine.

A couple times when she stopped to rest, Imogen found she was nodding off, jolting herself awake again. Hal had said they were safe until sunset, but Imogen was still alone in an unfamiliar forest. She brought out the call Hal gave her, holding it in her good hand as she thought. Imogen needed to go to someone she trusted. Someone who might understand that she couldn't have her location divulged. She thought of Dakota, but was certain she'd end up with the Potters immediately. Imogen thought of Lorcan, but that was too close to the Weasley's. Best case scenario, he kept her safe for a bit and let her go, then got into trouble because of her.

She needed to stay near here if she could, until she had a plan for what she would do. Going to Australia or England also caused problems with this. Maybe she could go back to the clan and manage what Hal hadn't been able to: defeat Sabina and gain her and Harper's magic back. Maybe she wouldn't survive the attempt, but if she could restore Harper's gift Imogen could redeem herself for what she failed to see.

Of course all Imogen knew about her current location was that it was in Eastern Europe somewhere. She knew two people in Eastern Europe. The first would unequivocally contact Ginny. The other… could go either way.

Imogen released the call. It grew to its normal form and stayed there. Rather than try her magic on it right away she waited, her heart pounding. If she waited, it would change form and she could see her mother one more time. It seemed like something she needed right now. Imogen swallowed as the light began to transform. She froze as the face took shape. It wasn't her mother. It was Ginny. She smiled at Imogen and reached out a hand to play with the pieces of hair around Imogen's face. The same smile, the same strong look in her eyes… even in the green glow, Imogen could tell the hair framing her face was white compared to the rest.

Imogen missed her more than she had yet. As she began to cry, Imogen thought about changing course. But she couldn't. Imogen reached out her right hand, using the call the way Hal taught her. She finally felt the magic left inside as Ginny disappeared and the orb transported Imogen away from here.

She landed on a wide street in the hills of Romania. They were in a valley with a row of houses in front of her. Imogen hadn't been here before and lucked out that Taylor was on her porch in the arms of some man. Taylor had a new tattoo—a dragon wrapped up and around her neck, the head finishing at her right ear, looking like it could reach up and bite at her earlobe. Even in summer, she wore dark leather pants and boots with her halter top. Her dark hair was thrown up in a messy bun. The man who she talked with seemed a complete contrast to her. He was dressed in slacks and a casual button down shirt, sandals setting the whole thing off. Wearing nondescript glasses and with a clean, short haircut, he looked quite conservative in comparison. Imogen walked slowly.

"I hate when you work nights," the man said to Taylor.

"You should just start volunteering for night shifts at the clinic when I'm scheduled out," Taylor replied. "Then we'll have more than your lunch hour those days."

"Maybe we just should make the most of it," he said, leaning over to plant kisses up Taylor's neck. She smiled, stretching to give him more access.

Imogen started to turn away, but Taylor caught sight of her and pulled back from the man. "Imogen?" she asked, her eyes wide. "Oh my god." She walked away from the man, leaving him on the porch. Imogen walked towards her leaning into her arms and breaking down into tears. "Inside, get inside," she instructed. "Xander, can you help me get her into my room?"

Imogen tried to tell them she could walk fine, but Xander still lifted her. He was stronger than his thin frame suggested. "Where are you bleeding?" he asked.

"My hand… I… I ran into a creature in the forest," Imogen said.

Xander laid her out on the bed and Taylor came in not far behind, a bowl of warm water and a cloth. She dabbed at Imogen's skin, wiping away blood, while Xander looked at her hand. He opened a window and pointed his wand out. " _Accio kit_ ," he said. He came back and continued. A black bag landed next to him a couple minutes later.

"I'll let Ginny know you're—"

"No! No, you can't!" Imogen felt panic rise in her. She grasped Taylor with her good hand, eyes going wide. She pulled her other hand from Xander. He stood, putting one hand on her shoulder. "I… I can't…"

"Okay, okay," Taylor said, looking more concerned than before. "Calm down, Imogen. We'll talk about that later."

Imogen sat back again, though she didn't relax. Maybe she was wrong to come here. Maybe she'd miscalculated on whether she could enlist Taylor.

Xander touched his wand to the cut and Imogen closed her eyes, gritting her teeth. She could feel blood again. "Sorry," he said. "That should have worked."

Imogen watched when she could. He pulled out different vials. "I'm going to give you something for the pain," he said, uncorking a small vial, holding it out to Imogen.

She looked at it skeptically. "It won't make me sleep, will it?" Taylor shot him a concerned look.

"Not at all," he said. "It will just numb the pain while I work on this."

Imogen reached over and grabbed the vial. She looked down at the liquid. She hoped he wasn't lying. As soon as it coated her throat, her whole body relaxed. There had been pain she hadn't even noticed until it melted away. Xander only talked about what he was trying as he worked. Taylor busied herself, getting rid of the rest of the dried blood, then bringing food to Imogen, though she hardly touched it.

"I'm going to try something we use on the dragons," Xander said.

"Xander is technically a healer for the staff, but he sometimes helps with dragon remedies as well," Taylor explained.

"It couldn't hurt," Xander said, pulling out a jar. "But nothing is closing this cut. This is a compound that will bind the gap until it heals itself. You need to be careful, though, or it can open up again."

Imogen nodded. He put the paste over her hand and took gauze, covering it methodically. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "What was this creature you came across?" he asked, pulling out another vial.

Imogen hesitated. "Um… it was little… I didn't see it well, but it… cut my hand and… disappeared. Claws, I think…"

He was looking at her intently, nodding. "Okay, I'll look into what it could be. I'll leave some extra pain reducer with Taylor for you to have in a few hours. And this is for the blood loss."

"Thank you," Imogen said, taking the potion.

Xander looked over at Taylor. "Want to walk me out?"

"Sure," she said, getting up off the bed. They headed out of the room. Imogen waited a minute, then quietly followed them, walking to the end of the hall where she could hear them whispering by the door.

"I don't know, but I've never seen a creature make a cut that clean before."

"I feel like I should get in touch with the Potters," Taylor said. Imogen looked back to the room. She wondered if she could grab her bag and climb out the window before Taylor noticed.

"Don't," Xander replied. "She needs food and rest. Keep her here as long as you can. And call for me if anything changes. I'll be back at four."

Taylor sighed. "Okay," she said. "Thank you."

Imogen could hear them kissing and she tiptoed back into the room, closing the door quietly. She tried to eat a little more while thinking through what she could tell Taylor. It had to be something that Taylor would believe.

Taylor walked back into the room a few minutes later. "You look tired, Imogen," she said. "How about you get some sleep and we'll talk after?"

"You can't tell Ginny I'm here," Imogen said.

"If you'll sleep, I won't tell her," Taylor promised.

Imogen eased back onto the pillows. There was a part of her that worried Taylor would contact the Potters as soon as she drifted off. Unfortunately Imogen didn't have anything left in her to fight sleep.

* * *

When James saw Taylor, he thought for sure Imogen would be back here, with him, within an hour. Taylor would tell his parents, they would go to fetch her, and this whole mess would be over. At least the part where they didn't know where Imogen was. James went into Imogen's room and made sure it was ready. Not that there was anything to do. It had been spotless and untouched for the whole month she'd been gone, but James wanted something he could do. _Tea_ , he thought. His mum always made tea when something was wrong. He went and got the kettle going.

When he'd done everything he could imagine would help, James sat on the couch, leaning on his knees and watching the mirror. Imogen was sleeping now. He watched and waited. Surely any moment he'd see his mum or dad's face next to hers, waking her up.

"What's going on?" Lily asked, coming out of her room around one, rubbing her eyes.

James was confused why Imogen wasn't here. "She's staying at some hotel," James said. "She's just sleeping."

He handed the mirror over to Lily, who took it anxiously. "She's okay?"

"Yeah, I think she is."

"I have to tell Dad," Lily said.

"Well, he's supposed to be home at six today," James said. He still hoped Taylor would tell him, but he was starting to wonder if Taylor made a promise the way Lily had.

"I'm in so much trouble," Lily added.

James pulled out bread and sandwich makings, putting them on the table. The tea was still sitting on the stove, so he poured both of them a cup. He was about to turn back and join Lily when he got an idea. If Taylor wasn't going to let them know, one of them had to go get Imogen. James wasn't sure how long it would take to get to his dad or if he was even at the office. Besides, if he told him about Taylor, he would have to tell him about the mirror and Lily. James saw a way to keep Lily out of trouble and still bring Imogen home.

He reached up while Lily was distracted, pulling out a sleep potion from the cupboard. He poured a bit into Lily's tea and then joined her for lunch. Halfway through her sandwich, Lily was out again, sleeping on her folded arms on the table. James cleaned up after both of them, then picked up his sister and took her to her bed, tucking her in.

James pocketed the mirror and grabbed a stash of emergency money his parents kept in their sock drawer, along with everything he personally had. He left a quick note on the kitchen table, saying he was spending the evening with a friend in Diagon Alley.

James left the house, and apparated to the street where Charlie lived. He'd visited a couple times over the years, so it took him a few minutes to remember exactly which one it was. He walked up to the door and knocked. When nothing happened he knocked again.

"Charlie is gone for the week, dear," a middle aged woman next door said.

James let out a breath. "Oh, thanks," he said to her. It would have been easier if he could have taken Charlie with him, certainly. It changed the plan, but he could still pull this off. "Uh, actually… maybe you could help me. Do you know where Taylor Griffins lives?"

"Of course, dear," she said.

James smiled and walked over to get directions.

* * *

 **A/N:** Just an FYI, what's about to happen is making me giddy! I'm thinking it should be up around Sunday. In the meantime I'd love to hear what you think this impending reunion might be like :) Thanks to those who take time to review!


	11. The Inn

_**The Inn**_

When Imogen woke several hours later Taylor set up a bath for her and she cleaned off the rest of the dirt and dried blood from the morning. She put on a light sundress and threw away the clothes she was wearing when she arrived.

"I'm making some pasta for dinner, if that's okay," Taylor asked.

"That's great, thanks," Imogen said. After arriving unexpected in the state she did, Taylor was still making sure she was okay with the dinner choice. It made Imogen feel guilty to be still thinking through what lie to tell her.

"And Xander should be coming to join us. He'll want to look at your hand," she said. "Your potion is on the table for you."

Imogen dropped her satchel by the kitchen door and walked in, asking what she could help with. Taylor was insistent that she just sit. Imogen found herself playing with her locket between her fingers as she decided what was next. She could only see two options. The first was to stay on the run as long as possible. The other… she wasn't sure how to accomplish. She wished she would have thought of it before using the call to come here. It was too late now, though. She'd get a full meal, then start her search.

"So," Taylor said, bringing over a pot of freshly cooked pasta. "You gonna to tell me what's going on?"

Imogen shifted in her seat. "I… I found where my papa was from," Imogen said. "There's something he never got to finish and I'm trying to."

Taylor stopped, raising an eyebrow. "And why don't you want Ginny to know?" This was the question Imogen hadn't figured out how to convincingly answer. She looked down at her hands, biting her bottom lip. "They sent messages to Charlie and me as soon as you went missing. I'll admit, I never thought you'd come here."

Imogen swallowed. "You were closest when… it happened," Imogen replied. "And I can't tell them about it. Not now. They wouldn't let me continue." At least a little truth in that.

"Is it dangerous?"

"No," Imogen said a little too quickly. "No, of course not. I just… I feel bad. But I'll go back once this is finished," she added for good measure.

Taylor examined her closely, reading her. Imogen tried to look casual. "How long do you think that will be?"

"Not long," Imogen said. "Just a few more days. Then I'll go back and explain everything."

"What if I came with you?" Taylor asked. She sat in a chair, leaning on her elbows across from Imogen.

"It's… protected by a spell. Only I can go through to finish," Imogen said. "It will be fine."

Taylor's gaze was still trained on Imogen when the front door opened. Xander came through with a bouquet of wildflowers. "How's my patient doing?" he asked, replacing barely wilting flowers in a vase in the middle of the table.

"Good," Imogen said. She looked out the window. It was still bright out, but she wasn't sure how long she could stay. Sabina and the others would be able to leave at sunset. Imogen didn't know how long it would take them to track her down, but she needed to be well away from Taylor or anyone else they could harm.

The three of them ate an early dinner with only a few comments. Taylor told Xander more about Imogen in Australia. "She was easily everyone's favorite," Taylor said. Imogen blushed, spinning the pasta on her fork. "She was pretty much the opposite of me."

"Opposite how?" Xander asked.

"She saw the best in everyone and was sweet and quiet. Not me," Taylor said. "I was pretty surly. Total pain in the ass."

Xander laughed. "Yeah, you're completely different now." Taylor tried to scowl at him, but a smile underscored the look.

"You weren't that bad at all," Imogen countered, then turned to Xander. "Taylor could take care of anything that was needed."

"See? Sees the best in everyone. I'll have Ginny tell you how I really was when you meet her someday," Taylor added.

Other than the little mentions of the Potters here and there, Imogen enjoyed dinner. She almost forgot she wasn't safe.

"I have to get going," Imogen said as dinner wound down. The other two froze.

"Now? Why don't you stay the night?" Taylor asked.

"No, it's important that I start as soon as I can," Imogen said, trying to smile to ease the tension.

"Let me at least check the bandage. And if you're on foot, you really should have better shoes."

Imogen nodded. Xander looked at her hand, making her drink another potion for pain and adding more of the paste to the cut. The skin was pulling apart again. Taylor went to her room, pulling out an old pair of ankle boots and adjusting them to fit Imogen's feet better.

"Thanks, again," Imogen said to Xander as Taylor walked her to the porch. "And thank you, Taylor. For your help… and … for not…"

"Sure," Taylor said. She reached out, grabbing Imogen's good hand and placing a stone in it. "I want you to keep this with you. Just in case. If it hits the ground, it will create a space where I can apparate and come help you. You know, if you have a run in with another creature."

Imogen nodded, putting the stone in the outside pocket of the satchel. "Thanks, that helps," Imogen said, though she was certain she wouldn't use it.

"Imogen… be safe." Taylor gave her a tight hug and Imogen hugged her back, knowing this was a final goodbye.

* * *

James waited behind a large shed on the corner of the street. It was late in the afternoon and Imogen was on the porch, talking with Taylor, who handed something to Imogen that she put in her bag. Her left hand was bandaged, but otherwise she looked well, wearing a dress and dusty boots. James waited to see if she'd change her appearance, but Imogen didn't seem concerned with that anymore. Imogen left Taylor behind and walked down the street, picking up speed.

James followed as the paved roads turned into dirt paths and they were soon in some kind of quarry, with large white rocks separated and chipped apart. He started at a run, took a corner and was nearly to Imogen when she stopped, eyes widening in recognition, then turned to run the opposite direction. "Come back!" James shouted at her. " _Stupify_!" he threw the spell at her retreating form.

She turned just enough to raise her right hand towards him, blocking his spell wordlessly. James took a right turn, wishing he had brought his broom. He climbed rock steps that had been carved up to a long wall, three feet high. He ran the length and jumped, landing in front of Imogen, heading her off. She slid as she changed directions, wincing as she used her bandaged hand to catch herself. James watched her go this time. He calculated his next move, turning on the spot. As soon as he apparated Imogen crashed into him, knocking him down. James grabbed her arms so she fell with him. He grunted as his head hit loose gravel.

Before Imogen could reorient herself, he flipped her over pinning down her arms, moving so he had a knee on either side of her. "Get off me!" she shouted, moving under him and trying to wriggle out. A flash came from a spell shot from her good hand and James dodged right to avoid it.

"Nice to see you, too, sweetheart," James said with a smile.

Imogen spat up into his face, her saliva hitting his cheek. James continued smiling and wiped his face against the shoulder of his shirt. Imogen could be as mad as she wanted, he'd finally caught up with her and nothing could upset him after that. "I mean it, James! Let...me… go!"

"No," he said firmly. With Imogen still trying to get loose, James easily pulled her wrists together, holding both in his left hand as he grabbed his wand where it had fallen. James made a figure eight motion with the tip, surrounding his left hand and Imogen's right, feeling a bracelet type pressure around his wrist. He let her go, sitting back.

"I taught you that spell!" she yelled at him, grabbing at the invisible tie on her wrist while scrambling up. As long as it was active, she was tethered to him, unable to use magic. It would disappear as soon as James wanted it to, and not a moment before.

"Yeah, I appreciate the irony of that. Don't you?" James said with a smirk.

Imogen turned to him, using her free hand to hit him on the shoulder. " _You. Can't. Keep. Me. Tied. Up_!" Tears developed in her eyes as he caught her hand on the last blow.

"Yes I can, actually," James said. "You're going to side along apparate home with me."

"No, I won't," Imogen said. "I'm staying here."

"You're going home, even if you're spliched in the process!" James watched her as she sat back, crossing her legs and folding her free arm against her stomach, the other stretched behind her. She was so rarely angry he'd never noticed just how beautiful she was in this mood. Even now, with her hair coated in white dust and gravel, she had to be the most beautiful person he'd ever known. "Look, I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but Mum is a mess over your leaving."

Imogen slackened in her stance. "She is?"

"Of course she is," James said. "She blames herself."

Imogen swallowed, then turned away from him. "It's not… but I said...I didn't leave because ..."

"Well then, why did you leave, Imogen?" She looked at him, then closed her mouth and looked determinedly the other way. "Fine, don't tell me, but I am taking you home."

Imogen didn't move as James tried to pull her up with him. For all his talk he'd never forgive himself if something happened to Imogen while getting her back and James had never tried taking a side along with him. Was it more difficult with a reluctant companion? Was it even possible? Or, worse, would there be some injury with them bound together this way? He thought through his other options. Taylor wasn't far, but if she hadn't tipped them off already, she was more likely to help Imogen than him. And with Charlie away, James wasn't sure it was a good idea to break into his house for the floo network. Charlie knew some wicked protection charms.

"Alright, well there's a portkey station about twenty kilometers from here. Easy enough to get you back to England that way." He took out his wand, levitating her beside him.

As Imogen was lifted into the air, she cursed, her legs kicking. "Put me down!" she finally yelled.

"Then walk," he said. She landed on her feet, scowled as she adjusted her dress, then walked beside him in silence.

In retaliation, Imogen walked far more slowly than James needed her to. About twenty minutes in he tried to put out his wand hand, but no bus showed up. Either this was too far off the route or the magic wouldn't work while Imogen desired not to go. They'd walked for two hours without seeing anyone or anything.

"It's getting dark," James said.

"Well spotted," Imogen retorted. It was the most they'd said to each other since leaving the quarry.

James could see a cluster of buildings ahead, lights shining in the dimming twilight. A sign with the word "Inn" in large lettering flashed, advertising a cost in galleons. Imogen tried to stall. "We need a place to stay for the night," he said. "Come on."

"No," Imogen said, pulling away again. Her voice raised as she continued. "James, just let me—"

" _Silencio_ ," he said, pointing his wand at Imogen. Her words disappeared and she scowled at him. "Sorry, but there may be people close now. No arguments. Just, come on. You don't want to sleep in the woods do you?"

She was tight-jawed as they came closer. All around the main building were identical cottages spread out on a large manicured lot surrounded by woods. James noticed Imogen was looking around with an expression like she was compiling a plan. He stopped the two of them fifty feet from the entrance. "Take my hand," he said. Imogen closed hers into a fist instead. James rolled his eyes, grabbing for her bag, pulling out a sweater and placed it over their hands, giving the appearance of hand-holding. "I can disable that other arm if you don't stop," he warned as she tried to snatch the sweater back.

They went into the lobby. Almost immediately he saw a sign flashing in various languages at the concierge's desk that read "Sorry, no floo." James swallowed back his frustration. It looked like they'd have to walk the distance at this point. Still, he beamed at the man as they came to the desk. He started off rambling to them in Romanian.

"Er, do you have any English speakers?" James asked.

"Ah! Engleesh!" the man said. "Welcome! You need room?"

"Yes," James said jovially. "Me and my new bride—" Imogen shot him a look of disbelief "—are touring your lovely country for our honeymoon! Decided just to see where we landed rather than book anything, so I'm hoping you have something nice available?"

"Ah! My congratulations!" the man said as he looked between the two of them. Imogen had turned away again, still scowling. "Uh, your wive is not happy?"

James leaned in and spoke more quietly. "She's a bit brassed at me. I forgot to pack her favorite lipstick, you know."

"Ah! Well, we give you honeymoon cottage to get you out of, how you say, doggie home?"

"Brilliant! Yes!" James said. "And do you provide dinner at this fine establishment?"

"There is house elf service. Speak to plate, menus on table."

"Thank you very much!"

* * *

They were lead to a cottage at the edge of the property by a small, dark haired woman who took tiny steps. "Luggage?" she asked.

"Er, no," James said. "We decided to buy some new clothes in the city."

Either this was perfectly normal behavior, she didn't speak English, or they weren't in the habit of picking up on red flags here in Romania, because the woman kept going, leading them onto a whitewashed porch and opening the door for them. James thanked her, pushing Imogen through the door first. When the woman left, he took the sweater off of their hands and undid the silencing charm.

"Favorite lipstick?" Imogen snapped.

"Yeah, that was good, right?" James replied with a grin. She wasn't sure if she was more irritated at how pleased he was with himself or that his grin still made her feel weak in the knees.

"Did you have to say we were on a honeymoon?" she added, looking around the room. There wasn't a normal light fixture in sight. Instead, they were surrounded by two dozen floating tea light candles set into water lilies.

"I figured since we're sharing a bed, you'd want one large enough to have your own space."

She scoffed. "I'm not sharing a bed with you. You can sleep on the floor."

"Sorry, _darling_ ," he said, lifting their connected hands. "Not happening."

Imogen knew he could use the charm as easily to keep her hooked to the bed or a chair, or anything else he saw fit. But if he hadn't thought of that, she certainly wasn't going to volunteer the suggestion. He may apparate back on his own and bring Ginny or Harry with him to fetch her.

The thought of Ginny hurt. Imogen wondered if she'd be able to send a letter before she went through with everything. Would she have time? Besides, what would she say? If a letter was possible, that was one thing, but Imogen could not have Ginny show up. It would be far too tempting to tell her everything. It was a temptation that didn't exist with James right now.

"Come on, let's eat," James said, tugging her towards the table.

Imogen ordered a warm vegetable soup while James requested the pork and potatoes. He dug in as Imogen took her time. She was glad she'd eaten so well at Taylor's as she now had difficulty eating with her left hand and didn't want to deign to complaining about the fact to James.

He was half finished when he grabbed the bottle of champagne that had been left for them in a bucket of ice. Imogen's hand was jerked around as he figured out how to open the bottle, then poured her a glass. "Sorry," he said, finally realizing how his use of his left hand affected her. Apparently trying to make up for his blunder, James moved his left hand close to her glass, allowing her to use her dominate hand to try the champagne. She sipped at the drink. It was more pleasant than she would have imagined. She took another drink before setting it down, attempting the soup again with her left hand.

"So how did you find me anyway?"

He scooped another bite into his mouth, set down his fork, and chewed while he pulled something from his pocket, setting it on the table. Her compact mirror. "Lily _promised_ —"

"Yeah, and I just about hexed her when I figured it out, too," James said, sitting back. Imogen tilted her head. "She didn't give you away, I should say. She carried the bloody thing around with her and I finally realized what was going on. Granted it still wouldn't have helped, but then I saw you with Taylor."

Imogen could have kicked herself. How could she have been so careless? And then she remembered that she didn't have much of a choice. She needed somewhere safe to rest. She eyed the mirror and lunged with her left hand for it, but James was quicker.

"I don't think so," he said, pushing it back into his pocket. There was a pause as she picked up her spoon and ate some more. "What happened to your hand?"

Imogen looked at him. "It doesn't matter," she said.

"No, tell me. I wanna know."

"Yes, well, you gave up getting to know when you decided you'd rather date Shanna Read."

"I didn't—" James stopped, closing his mouth and looking down at his plate, pushing some potatoes around. "I should have never said those things," he said. "And I was wrong about Lorcan."

Imogen blinked, watching him sit back in his chair, squirming uncomfortably. "Yes, you were."

James looked over to her. "You don't have to forgive me," James said. "I have been completely thoughtless, but you can't make the rest of the family suffer for it."

"It's not that," she said. "James, I can't… I just can't go back."

"You aren't in trouble. They aren't going to care that you left. They just want you home. All of them. And you don't have to worry about me being there. Uncle George said I can live above the shop, whether I work for him or not."

He didn't understand what she was saying, and maybe that was better. Imogen's eyes welled with tears as she looked down. She'd never see any of them again. Not Albus, ranting about something he'd read in the Prophet, or Lily dancing freely through the kitchen. Never again would Harry explain a Quidditch match to her. And she would never have Ginny braiding her hair while giving her advice or an encouraging smile.

James reached over, wiping away a tear with his thumb, resting his hand on her cheek as they looked in each other's eyes. "I'll disappear, if you want," he whispered the promise.

Imogen swallowed. "I don't want you to disappear," she whispered back.

James's brow knit as he looked down, recognition flickering in his eyes. He lowered his hand, pulling at the chain around her neck. He pulled it up until the locket sat in his hand, his thumb passing over the engravings on its face. He looked up again, eyes shifting between both of Imogen's.

Imogen didn't know who moved first or if they moved as one, but their lips crashed against each other. The taste of James created a fervor in Imogen as she threw her left hand around his neck. James dropped the locket and weaved his fingers into her short hair, holding her close to him. James pressed kisses down her neck as Imogen's hand was suddenly freed. He lifted her, Imogen wrapping her arms around James as she was pulled to her feet. James placed his forehead against hers, looking into her eyes, with deep, heavy breaths. He waited. Imogen felt the planes of his face beneath her fingers, tilted her chin up so their noses brushed as she gave him one gentle kiss. She ran her hands down James's chest, finding the bottom of his shirt and tugging it upward. He lifted his arms and helped her remove it before lining her jaw with his hands and kissing her again, his lips hungry for hers.

His hands moved gently as he ran his fingers along her outer thighs, up her hips and to her stomach. He pulled the fabric of her sundress up like a slowly rising curtain. Imogen felt heat trail behind his fingers as he moved with less urgency than Imogen felt. He was taking her in, every curve, every rib, every inch. Under his look and touch, there was no impending danger. No threat of discovery. Just them. The rest fell away.

The whole world seemed to speed up. James lead Imogen to the bed, and they were lost in each other, laid bare, body and soul. And in the midst of it all, James whispered her name. It was the most beautiful sound Imogen ever heard.

* * *

James fell asleep with one arm across Imogen's chest, the other wrapped tightly around her waist. His hold was protective. Imogen didn't know how long she lay there awake, but it had to have been hours ago that they had fallen into this position. She kept kissing his arm, leaning her cheek into his chest to feel his heartbeat, and breathed him in deeply. She tried to remember every sensation, every breath, every muscle that moved when his sleeping form pulled her into him. At one point, she wove the fingers of her right hand between his, stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, little sparks flickering in the path she drew on his skin. He continued sleeping.

The early morning sun broke through a parting in the curtains, touching the edges of James's cheek. Carefully, Imogen disentangled herself from his arms, slowly to keep from waking him. As she crawled from the bed, he turned onto his back, one hand thrown against the headboard rails, the other covering his eyes. Imogen moved quietly around the room, finding articles of clothing and putting them back on. She adjusted her satchel across her body and found James's jeans nearby. She dug for the mirror in the pocket, putting it into her bag.

Imogen watched James for several more minutes, peaceful and still. She stepped beside him, leaning over and kissing the corner of his mouth. He didn't wake, but his lips twitched into a lopsided grin, his chest taking in a deep breath. Finally, she reached out, palm outstretched, and lashed a bind on James's wrist closest to the bed, making the figure eight before turning to leave.

She tried to close the door quietly, though the heavy wood still clapped as the hinges closed. Imogen stood, leaning back against it, taking deep breaths.

"Imogen?" she heard James from inside the room. She walked silently along the porch to the steps that lead down into the grass. "Imogen! No, Imogen, come back!"

Imogen covered her mouth silencing a sob, her legs were weak as she pressed forward towards the line of trees.

"IMOGEN!"

She could release him when she was a few miles off—once she was too far to track. Grasping at trees for support, she weaved in and out of the forest of thin poplars.

"That was smooth," Hal's Scottish lilt came from her right. She stopped, wiping away the tears pouring down her cheeks. Hal leaned cooly against a tree. He'd been waiting for her. "Bang him, then run off in the morning. Surprisingly simple tactic, but effective. Didn't think you had that in yeh, Snow White."

"What do you want from me?"

"I wanted to offer you something," he said. "Mind you, it's because Harper told me she'd come looking for you herself if I didn't. Come with us. We have a place we can all be relatively safe, I think. Away from them."

"Why would I trust you?"

Hal sighed. "Because I owe you one," he said. "If you hadn't followed my call, they probably would have killed Harper."

"Then I get to choose the favor."

"What?"

"Get me to the meadow."

* * *

Ginny and Albus hadn't made it home until nearly eleven o'clock the night before. Lily was fast asleep, though James was gone (according to his note) and Harry hadn't returned home. They were exhausted but it was worth it. They found volumes of ledgers of children who were supposed to have been at the orphanage in Bath between 1970 and 1997. Albus was helping her go through the register. "From what I can tell, when a child is adopted, it's entered like this one." He pointed to a line where the original last name had been crossed out with a double line and the new name written above. "There are a couple, usually babies, were they died, like here." This one had a d. 2-82 written in the margin on the right. "But then—" he flipped a few pages forward "—there are some that have the entire registration marked out in double lines."

Ginny flipped to the pages before and after the entry Albus pointed out. There weren't many. Every other page they'd see one. "Did they just change how they marked them?"

"I wondered that at first," he said. "But they still have both the old markings for deaths and adoption, too. Still, the dates they started doing it coincide with a woman by the name of Arayana Ruskin running the books and records. She was fired after five years, but with no reason listed."

"But if she was in charge of the records—"

"She was in charge of current records. Or, current records based on when she was there. Only, we can't just request the records of the people crossed out. Too many to list a specific reason."

"Well, the girls then?"

"That brings us down to… four."

Ginny nodded. "How did you get to be so smart?"

"I always assumed you grabbed the wrong baby at Mungo's."

"Yes, sweetheart," Ginny said, kissing the top of his head. Albus grinned. "But your genius parents thought you were too ill mannered for their liking. Alright, I'll talk to Hermione, see if she knows of a way to get those through muggle authorities."

There was a pop from the living room as Ginny stood. Albus had buried himself into the records again, analyzing the hundreds of names and dates it contained. "Harry," Ginny called, ready to fill him in on their latest finding, but instead found James, sitting on the couch, shoulders rolled down and hands grasping at his hair.

She stepped over, sitting beside him, placing a hand on his back. "What's wrong, love?" she asked quietly.

"I lost her," James's voice cracked. "I had her, Mum. And then she was gone."

James gave into tears, curling up and laying his head on her lap, looking like a distraught five year old. Ginny felt herself choke back tears, grabbing his arm in one hand and running the other through his messy, black hair. "It's alright," she said quietly into his ear. "We'll find her again. We'll find her."

* * *

It was early afternoon and the Potters all sat in the living room. Harry was at one end of the couch, leaning his elbows on his knees, rubbing his forehead, Ginny was on the opposite end. Lily sat between them, legs crossed and crying into her hands. Albus and James were in the arm chairs opposite them.

This started when Ginny called Harry home from work early, if it could be considered early when he hadn't been home since the day before. They sat James down at the kitchen table, sending the others to their rooms. Harry got them all glasses of butterbeer and asked James to explain what had happened with Imogen. This was one of those times Ginny was grateful for her choice in husband and father to her children. Harry had his own temperamental moments in their youth, but age and training as an auror had made him calm and collected in these scenarios—sometimes infuriatingly so. Especially to Ginny, who had been trained from a young age to react to things the same way as her mother. Either she was protectress or went at a problem with the same explosive quality as a filibuster firework. While James explained, she sat beside him, rubbing his back and biting back any comments as he talked.

James told them that he'd gotten a tip on Imogen's whereabouts. He then followed her, pinned her down, bound her wrist to his, and was on his way with her to a portkey station. He took a long time explaining the decision to get a portkey rather than apparating. "It was dark and we needed a place to sleep. So we found an inn and… and I let her hand free for the night." James stopped looking at Harry, as though he found the table suddenly more interesting. "When I woke this morning she'd used the binding jinx on me and… Imogen was gone." This last statement was said with emotion bubbling up again.

Ginny looked at Harry. He was looking right back. She was sure he'd come to the same conclusion as her.

"And… to what extent were you dressed when you fell asleep?" Harry asked frankly. James avoided both their eyes, looking down at his drink, turning his glass with his fingertips. James didn't get the Weasley genes for blushing, though right around his ears he went pink. "Right. Well, what I really want to know is how you figured out she was with Taylor in the first place?"

James looked up at this, shock winning out over embarrassment. "You knew?"

"It's why I didn't come home last night," Harry said. "Taylor contacted Charlie after Imogen left her, who contacted me. Apparently Imogen needed immediate care, which I'm now guessing means her hand, and Taylor was sure Imogen would have left in a poor state if she'd reached out sooner. Said there was something off, but she couldn't tell what. I sent a message along in the afternoon—which I now know you weren't here to receive—and then worked all night to get permission from the Romanian government to bring a team of our Aurors in to find Imogen. Taylor gave her a tracking stone they use when transporting dragons, should one happen to get loose. Got her to take it with her."

James's face screwed up before he planted it between his folded arms. " _Oh god_ ," he groaned, the sound muffled by his arms.

Harry reached across the table, patting his arm. "That's about the measure of it," he agreed. "But it could be worse, James Sirius." They had never told James all the events that lead to Sirius's death. He knew it was while fighting. James just didn't know it was partly because of the impatience of his parents. What Ginny really worried about was that James was more Sirius here than he was them. "Now, tell me how you knew she was with Taylor."

James could barely bring himself to surface, but raised his head, shaking it. "Lily had a mirror," James said. Harry visibly tensed. "She'd been watching Imogen since she left. Imogen took it back from me."

Harry just about lost it. He left the kitchen, walking through the living room, pounding first on Albus's door, then Lily's. "Family meeting. Now."

When everyone was settled (Lily and Albus confused why they'd been called), Harry turned the questions to Lily, who immediately melted down. James, who appeared to be recovering, would fill in what she'd said unclearly or couldn't say, until they had out with everything. Harry spent a lot of the explanation pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "When did we stop talking to each other?" he snapped after several moments of tense silence.

"Well I didn't keep any secrets," Albus responded.

"Not the right moment," Ginny said to him, giving a warning glance.

"I'm just saying—"

"Stop saying," she said. "Bad form, Albus."

"Your mum is right," Harry said. "This family is not in competition with one another and we are _not_ on opposite teams."

Harry looked over to Ginny. He was thinking through something. The last time he'd had that look, he declared the family would go on a humanitarian trip during holidays so the kids would be more grateful for what they had. It had great intentions, but meant Ginny and him got to wrangle with a four, six, and seven year old through various good-willed activities, many of which they did the bulk of work on as well. He was looking for permission and support. She had no idea what he had planned, but she nodded. He turned back to the rest of them.

"Okay, I'm taking responsibility here," Harry started. "I should have made sure everyone was working in tandem. Instead I've been working with James, who's gone rogue, Mum and Albus have been buried in research, and Lily has been busy playing detective with Lorcan. No more. From now on, everyone knows everything that's going on in this family. No more secrets. And no one is allowed to do anything else the rest of summer until you all know how to send a patronus message."

"I have tickets to see the Hobgoblins before school starts, though," Albus said.

"Nothing else," Harry replied. "If you want to go, you will learn quickly."

"But Dad, I didn't—" Albus spat out in disbelief.

"No," Harry said. "No arguments. I should have at least taught you boys ages ago. And Lily's as old as either of us were when we learned. And if you don't get it by the end of August, no one will do anything over Christmas holiday either. The problems we've had are because of poor communication, so the resolution will be just that— communication."

He looked to Ginny again, though she was already nodding her affirmation. This was a much better grand plan than his last one. "And when are we going to find Imogen?" Ginny asked him.

He took a deep breath. "If they haven't gotten approval back in the office yet, they will soon. I wanted to talk with Taylor first, see what she knows. She's also got what we need to track the stone."

"I'm coming with," Ginny said, pushing herself up from the couch. She looked at Harry who seemed to be mulling it over until she raised an eyebrow. He shrugged his begrudging approval. "Lily, go ahead and tell Lorcan what you know. I'm sure he's worried. Albus, could you make your dad some lunch?"

* * *

Everyone else had left the room, going their separate ways. Just James and Harry sat, facing one another.

"You can start looking up the theory on the patronus charm while I'm gone," Harry said. "We'll start tomorrow, hopefully. Imogen needs to learn too."

"Dad, I want to come with."

"You didn't follow orders," Harry replied.

James swallowed back something he felt rising in his throat. "I know, I screwed up, but Dad—"

"You didn't follow orders."

James couldn't stop thinking of Imogen. He swore he could still feel the pressure of her body in his arms. He could see her clearly in his mind. "I have to be there, though."

Harry cleared his throat. "I am taking Broker and Carver with me, your mum is coming, and possibly Taylor. You don't need to be anywhere but here." James leaned back in the armchair. "I do want your help on a puzzle, though. Why do you think Imogen suddenly doesn't plan to come back?"

James shrugged. "She's afraid of getting in trouble."

"No, see, you're thinking like a teenager right now. Think like an auror, son. In her note she said she was coming back. She told Lily she was coming back. Why is she not planning to come back anymore?"

James thought about this. Was this what Lorcan meant when he said James didn't listen to her? Maybe. "She could have been lying to begin with."

"I might think that if it was just Lily she said it to. But she didn't have to write that she'd be back as soon as possible. I wouldn't have expected a note at all if she didn't plan to come back."

"Something changed," James said. Harry nodded. "She said she couldn't come back. To me. She kept saying she couldn't come back."

"Couldn't?"

"She said I can't go back now," James said. He met his dad's gaze. Harry nodded at him.

"We'll make an auror of you yet," he said. "Keep an eye on your brother and sister."


	12. In the Meadow

**_In the Meadow_**

"Come in," Taylor said, opening the door wide for Ginny, Harry, Carver, and Broker. "I'm glad you're finally here."

Introductions were made, including Taylor introducing a man named Xander that was waiting with her, but they all seemed anxious to get to business. In Romania it was four o'clock by the time they arrived, which was almost a full day since Imogen had left Taylor's.

"The stones give a general idea of location," Taylor said. "What's strange, though, is that Imogen made it about here—" she pulled out a local map and pointed to a spot in a forested area several miles away"—then she more or less disappeared."

"Do you think she realized the stone was tracking her and left it?" Harry asked.

"No," Taylor said. "If that were the case, it would track to where she left it. And she didn't drop it or I'd have an exact location when that happened."

"What do you mean?" Broker asked.

"These stones are meant for tracking dragons in flight," Xander interjected. "If they go off track, it gives us their general directions so a team can follow quickly. If they fall because of injury, the impact will give the location so that we can provide immediate attention."

Carver was running her finger over the line Taylor drew indicating the path Imogen had taken. "Okay, so when does it disappear?"

Taylor and Xander looked at each other. "Interference?" Taylor asked. Xander seemed to mull over the suggestion.

"Interference of what?" Ginny asked.

"Magic," Xander replied. "Specific types of magic. Goblin or Elf or Veela. But if just beyond there is protected by another type of magic, it may skew the initial purpose of the stone."

"But other types of magic shouldn't matter if it drops," Taylor added. "I told her if she needs help to drop it. If she hasn't, then she must be alright."

Harry sat back and took a breath. Ginny wished they could take that last statement for granted. "Do you know anything about Gypsies?" Harry asked.

Taylor shook her head but Xander leaned forward. "I've dealt with a few. Decent people, but very to themselves. Why?"

"Apparently Imogen is one of them," Harry said. "How do you think they'd react to one of their own trying to leave?"

Xander shrugged. "I can't say exactly. Maybe not well, if her hand is any indication."

"How bad was it?" Ginny asked, torn between whether or not she really wanted to know.

"Pretty bad," Xander said. Harry reached over and grabbed Ginny's hand as she looked down. "I don't know how she stopped the bleeding, but every time I tried to close the wound it started again. Almost down to the bone, too."

"Imogen was lying to us about how it happened," Taylor said. "She's a terrible liar, by the way."

"She's not practiced at it," Ginny pointed out.

Harry cleared his throat. "Alright, if we encounter Gypsies, first attempts are peaceful. Beyond that, nothing permanent. Stun only if you must."

The others all nodded. "Xander and me wanted to come with, if that's okay," Taylor said.

"I was hoping you would," Harry replied. "Let's get to where we know she last was, and we can go from there."

They each apparated from Taylor's house. Ginny held her breath, letting it out when Imogen wasn't there when they arrived. She had hoped that maybe there had been a flaw in the stone, and this would be their final destination.

"The ground is wet. Careful you don't cover anything that can be traced," Harry said. Carver and Broker each went in opposite directions. Harry was looping around the general area, examining the ground and tree trunks. Ginny stayed where she was. It was obvious the three had some routine and she would wait for directions.

"Ginny?" Taylor interrupted her thoughts. Ginny turned to her. "I'm sorry I let her go."

"You did what you could," Ginny said. The more irrational part of her wanted to berate Taylor for exactly that, but she knew Taylor well enough to know that if there had been a reasonable way, she would have Imogen with her.

"I have never seen her like that," Taylor said.

Ginny crossed her arms, licking her lips. "Like what?"

"She was panicked. It was like," Taylor searched for the words, "like she was afraid of seeing you."

"Afraid of me?" Ginny's heart dropped a little.

"No, not afraid of you… just of what would happen if you found her."

Ginny knit her brows thinking through the implications of what Taylor was saying. "I don't understand," she finally said.

Taylor looked around at the others, then leaned in, speaking more quietly. "Xander and I were trying to figure it out after she left. Someone cut her. Xander's sure of it. She needed to get going and I don't think it was for a good reason."

"Are you saying someone's following Imogen? That they… they want to attack her?"

Taylor nodded, eyes wide as she looked at Ginny. "She didn't want anyone with her. She was afraid that she'd put others at risk. And I just keep thinking I should have made her stay. If anything happens—"

"Nothing's going to happen," Ginny said quickly, as much for herself as for Taylor.

"Ginny," Harry called. She weaved through the trees towards where he was squatting, looking down at the ground. Taylor followed behind her. Xander also joined them. "Okay here—" he pointed at two sets of footprints "—is the last place her footprints are."

"And the other set?" Ginny asked.

"Not sure, but she met someone here I think," Harry said. He pointed to his right. "Those only last about twenty feet, but all the ground here is soft."

"So they apparated? They knew exactly where to find her?" Harry nodded and stood. Ginny thought of what Taylor had just told her. "Did they hurt her?" Ginny's heart sped up.

"There was no struggle," Harry said. "They were facing each other and she doesn't appear to have gone off in another direction, so I'd so no."

This hardly made Ginny feel better. "Well, where was she coming from?"

"Let's find that out," Harry said.

Everyone else stayed behind as Ginny and Harry followed Imogen's footsteps through the trees in silence. Her steps were unsteady and uneven. She hadn't been walking normally. Ginny's mind leapt to the possibility of more injuries. It wasn't long until they reached the edge of the trees. Standing along a well groomed lawn, her and Harry were looking at an inn of cottages.

"This… this isn't—"

"Yeah, it is," Harry replied.

"So," Ginny had to think through this, trying not to be distracted by the significance of the place. "So, she disappeared shortly after leaving James."

Harry nodded slowly. Ginny ran a hand through her hair and Harry reached an arm around her shoulders. "We need to canvas the area. See if we can find a trace," he said.

* * *

It was dark and Imogen grew more concerned than she had been when the sun still shined. Hal brought her to the meadow—or as far as he could—that morning. "I can't give you directions exactly," Hal told her. "Just… think of the song."

Imogen thought through the song and the first hint hit her immediately. "I can only get in at sunrise," she said. Hal nodded. "And same with getting out?"

"Not here," Hal said. "You can leave anytime, if that's what you choose."

"Is it easy to stay there?" Imogen asked.

"Easiest thing in the world."

Imogen was tempted to ask him about his time there, but the way his jaw tensed, she knew better than to give into it. Instead she tried to think of what else she needed to know. "You and Harper will really be safe?" Imogen asked.

"Yeah," he said shortly.

Imogen didn't know whether she cared at this point if Hal was safe or not, but she did care that Harper was well away from Sabina. That was her main reason for going into the meadow—a place between life and death. If Imogen went and stayed they could never finish the ceremony and never do this to anyone else. Imogen thought of Gabe and the little silver sparks. She didn't know if it was what she thought, but if it was, Gabe would keep her magic. If it was too late for her and Harper, they could at least be certain this didn't happen again.

"I'll stay until it gets dark," Hal offered. Imogen didn't say she wanted it, but she didn't decline either. They sat in silence most of the day.

Now she just had to wait out the night. Every hoot of an owl and scamper of a squirrel worried her. Imogen didn't relax in the slightest until the sun was starting to make its appearance. She stood. Imogen decided to leave her satchel by the tree. She'd made Hal take the pictures of his mother with him, putting the others in a bag. Maybe if someone found it, the Potters would at least see that she found her father and where she'd come from. Imogen kept the locket on, though she went back and forth on whether she should leave it for James.

Imogen stood back, looking all around her. The sun was peeking through the leaves when she saw it: a rainbow that ran along the trunk of a tree to her right. Looking up, she noticed a prism placed in the upper branches of the tree. She walked towards it. Imogen saw nothing different in the ground until she came close to the tree, and the rainbow that still shone. Rather than the ground continuing parallel, there were two paths. One lead up, staying in the field where she was, the other slanted down. There was a stream along this area. She followed along. The colors seemed brighter and the grass thicker. As soon as she'd gone a hundred feet in, Imogen looked behind her and the other place had disappeared. She looked up, a perfect blue sky looking down on her rather than the soil of ground above.

She closed her eyes, thinking of the words again.

Down the stream and through the hollow…

Imogen followed the stream. It ended in a circle around a tree with the largest trunk she'd ever seen. Were it hollowed it, the whole Potter family could easily have fit inside. There was one large knot. Imogen circled it, looking for the hollow mentioned in the song, but nothing like it existed. Through the hollow, she thought. She looked at the knot again. Reaching out her right hand, Imogen sought the little magic left and pressed against it. The hollow appeared.

This was it. This was the place of rest. The place without sorrow. The place without all of those people she was leaving behind. Imogen's heart pounded as she stepped over the water and ducked through the hole in the tree. As soon as she came through, Imogen saw a statue of a boy. Teenaged and handsome, he was made of a crystal material. He laid out in the grass, vines grown over him.

Imogen looked around the lawn. The boy wasn't the only one. She weaved in and out, one crystal statue after another. Then she saw a middle aged woman, a hundred yards from the tree. She wasn't fully crystal. Her clothing was made of velvet and her hair was half transformed. Her skin, however, was as perfect as the rest. Imogen remembered Harper's words about this place. You could leave, but that option was temporary, and now Imogen knew why. This is what she would become.

But they all stayed for a reason. Imogen found an open space, lying in the soft, untamed grass. She took a few deep breaths, then closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to come.

When Imogen sat up, she seemed to have ended up back where she started. Back to where Hal left her. She was upset, looking around, realizing she wasn't alone. She jumped up, her hand out, ready to shield herself, then she dropped it by her side.

"Hello, Imogen."

"Papa."

* * *

James hadn't slept all night. He kept waiting for someone to come give them news. When the sun rose, he got dressed and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. He sat alone for a while. He looked at the clock around seven and decided to go bother Albus for a task in their search for Imogen's mother to distract him.

When he stepped into the living room he stopped. Lorcan sat there on the couch, Lily curled up beside him with her arms around his middle. Lorcan stiffened at the sight of James, but he didn't say anything. James figured Lily hadn't slept at all either, and Lorcan wanted an update as much as any of them.

Still, seeing them wrapped up in each other made James miss Imogen more than he could handle. Changing his mind, James went out the door and walked up the road to his and Imogen's field. He laid in the grass, picking at dandelions and making white flowers that he then crushed until they disappeared over and over again.

He'd been there quite a while when he saw a strange figure marching his direction. The girl was thin and tall, with black curly hair, but he recognized the man following her from the memory. It was the man Imogen had traveled with. "You're James?" she asked, still a ways off.

James knit his brow and nodded.

"Harper! Get back here now!"

"No," she shouted back, still striding towards James. "She went to the meadow," she said when she'd gotten to James, grasping his arms. Her eyes were wide and frantic. James was leaning back, trying to keep her at arm's length.

"Excuse me?" James asked.

"Imogen, she went to the meadow!" Harper said.

"You changed where we were going," Hal yelled at Harper. "Now come on, I'm not playing around!"

"Neither am I," Harper retorted. She turned back to James. "Imogen needs you."

"Wait, who are you?" James asked.

"We're her cousins. Her papa was our uncle."

"Cousins?" James looked over to Hal who was getting closer. Hal reached for Harper and James stepped in between them. James turned, keeping Harper behind his back.

"Out of my way, asshole!" Hal said.

"I'm not going anywhere until someone explains where the damn meadow is!" James shouted back. "And why Imogen went there."

"It's not anywhere you can get to," Hal said.

Harper turned James around, holding out her hands. "They're trying to find her to do this," she said. There were red scars across her hands. James immediately realized what had been under the bandages Imogen wore. "There are people who want her magic."

"And the meadow?"

"It's a place where they can't get to her or finish what they started."

James swallowed. The way Harper said it still didn't make it sound safe. "I'm supposed to stay here. My parents are tracking Imogen. They'll find her."

"Not there," Harper said. She was earnest as she grabbed his arms again. "It's a Gypsy place."

"I don't understand."

"Imogen can go in, but no one can bring her out. And she doesn't plan on leaving… we'll never see her again," Harper said. "Hal… Hal can take you though!"

Hal reached around James in his moment of distraction, grabbing Harper. "No, Hal cannot," he said sharply. "I am taking you where it's safe!"

"Not until you tell me how to find Imogen!"

"Look," Hal said, pushing Harper behind him and getting right into James's face. "I took Imogen there because I owed her a favor. I'm not going again."

"You took her?"

"It's what she wanted," he spat, turning and pushing Harper along.

"And you knew she couldn't come back from it?"

"It's not my problem."

James grabbed Hal's shoulder with one hand, turning him around. He threw his fist, hitting Hal's face and drawing his wand.

"You bloody bastard," Hal snapped, holding his jaw.

James had his wand at Hal's chest before he could stand up straight. Harper covered her mouth with her hands. Hal spat and looked up with a snarl.

"Take me to Imogen!" James demand.

"You can't get there," Hal snapped. "And the only way she can come out is if she decides to."

"Hal, she'll see him," Harper said. "You know she'll be able to see him if we take him to the entrance."

James had given up on knowing what they were talking about. All he knew is that this may be a last chance to get Imogen. Especially if his parents couldn't find this place Harper spoke of.

"It's the right thing to do," Harper said, hanging on Hal's elbow. It was a gesture James recognized. It was the way Lily talked to him if she wanted something. "Mum would have wanted you to."

Hal visibly softened, still rubbing his jaw. "Fine," he said. "But we are in and out of that bloody place, you understand?"

Harper nodded. Hal was doing something with his hands. A green light appeared. "You'll have to hold to one of us," Hal told James.

* * *

Imogen ran into her father's open arms. He rocked her back and forth, kissing her head as she buried her face into his chest. "Oh, Papa!" she cried.

After a while, he pulled her back, holding her face in both his hands. "You are as beautiful as I knew you vould be," he said with a smile.

"Where's Mum?" Imogen asked.

"She cannot come to zis place," her father said sadly. "The meadow vas made for Gypsy souls to meet."

"Will I ever get to see her?" Imogen asked. All of those that lay in the area before here were nowhere to be found. It was just her and her papa.

"If you choose to go vith me, you vill see everyone," he said. Imogen's heart leapt at this. She understood why Hal said this was easy. She could be with her parents again—something Imogen had wanted since the moment she lost them. "But I hope you vill not. Not yet."

"Why?" Imogen asked.

"Because ve vant a full life for you, Imogen," her papa said. "It is all ve ever vanted."

Imogen leaned into him again. In this moment she couldn't imagine ever choosing to do anything but go with him—to stay with him forever. They talked of other things, small things, walking around the meadow. They reminisced about their time together when Imogen was young. She remembered new moments and his laugh. When what was pleasant ran dry, Imogen knew she had questions, burning questions that needed answers.

"Who was Frederick Dahl?" Imogen asked first.

"Frederick vas married to a Gypsy caster. She vas killed by Sabina after her magic was stolen," her papa explained. "He verked hard against Sabina and told me of her involvement in ze fire vhich killed my parents. I vanted to take Bianka, but could not vhen I left. I lived vith Frederick for two years. I took his name and started a new life. Zhen one day, he fell in love vith a voman. He vas engaged before I met her, though I had known her for years. From the clan."

Imogen thought about this. "Valda?"

Her papa nodded. "She poisoned him. I fled and someone told me of a place I could be safe."

"And that's how you ended up in Australia."

"Yes," he said. He sat on a long, fallen tree trunk. Imogen sat beside him.

"Do you regret going there?" Imogen asked.

"In some vays, yes. But mostly not. I vould not have met your mama, and I vould not have my beautiful girl."

"Why did you give me your magic?" Imogen asked.

He took a deep breath. "Vhen you have children, you may understand. You vant zem to be safe, Imogen. I vanted you to have every chance. I strengthened your magic vith mine. If Sabina ever found you, I vanted you to vin. Zen you came to us, making us realize vat vas happening. Ve panicked. Ve acted too fast. I gave you everything I had left to keep you safe, not knowing zat it vould leave you alone."

"And why did you make me forget everything? All the things about you and mum... I couldn't remember. I couldn't remember anything, Papa."

"I did not know vat the place vas to you. I vondered vat happened to you zat I did not know. I vorried zat if ve vere caught, zey vould use your memories. Fear and love make us blind, Imogen. It seemed good at ze time. I vas wrong to do zat. Ze fault of a man vithout visdom."

Imogen took this in, trying to understand. It seemed worse that there hadn't been a purpose in her not having these things to comfort her when her parents were gone. Yet she had him now. It would all be alright and all could be amended. "Papa," Imogen said, thinking. "There was a girl in the clan, a young girl. She... she nearly drowned and I used my magic to save her and after she showed the signs of casting. Is there any way I passed it onto her?"

"You did much more," he said.

"But Hal told me that's only possible if one of her parents was a caster, and they aren't."

Her papa sighed and smiled. "My nephew falls victim to a Gypsy problem. Zey have believed so long in zair magic, zat zey do not question vat zey do not understand."

"What do you mean?"

"Ages ago, Gypsies vere not so stingy vith zair gifts. Zey shared zhem when zey vere able."

"But that's just temporary."

"For some, yes, but for zose, like ze girl you speak of, zey are ready to accept ze gift, and have just never been given ze chance."

"So I lost some of my magic when I healed her?"

"No, Imogen, you increased it."

"But... how? You lost your gift when you gave it to me."

"Zair vas a time the gift was given freely. Just as vith magic, not everyone could use ze gifts, but our people sought zose who could. Some vizards held Gypsies in contempt, vhich spread to zose in our clans and ze gifts only continued from one generation to ze next. Many parents increased zair children's gifts at ze end of zair lives, or passed it as I did. Zhen zair have been some like Sabina, who have stolen for zhemselves. Zey are cursed, needing more magic to subsist. Zey must alvays look for ze young to feed zair greed." Imogen looked at her papa as he grabbed her right hand between his own, passing his palm over hers like he did when she was young. "It is time for goodness to be brought back to ze Gypsies. For giving to prevail."

Imogen leaned into him, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she closed her eyes.

 _Imogen_!

Someone shouted her name, though it seemed vaguely distant and close at the same time. She opened her eyes and sat up. There was James, standing right in front of her. She stood. "James?"

He didn't turn towards her, but looked frantically around the meadow.

 _Imogen_! he shouted again. Hal and Harper appeared at the edges of the trees.

"He cannot hear you," her papa said. "You and he are in different planes of ze same place."

"Hal brought him," she said, still looking at James. He walked from one spot to another, calling her name. "He shouldn't have brought him here," Imogen felt her pulse picking up. A red jet of light was aimed right for him. "No, James!" she shouted.

He blocked it just in time, stumbling backward. Harper was grabbed immediately by Juris and Hal was fighting off Mihail, trying to get back to his sister. James dueled with Tibor. Tibor started with bravado, laughing as James blocked one curse after another.

"Vat a smart boy," he taunted, throwing another curse. Imogen yelled again. James dodged it, sending his own jinx that threw Tibor off his feet. Tibor lost his glee. He slashed and James had to jump back to create a shield. The force still threw James into a tree behind him.

"Go, Imogen," her Papa said. She turned to him. "Go!"

He pushed her towards where she had come in. She took a few steps backwards, then looked over where James had stood, Tibor still struggling to his feet. "I love you, Papa," she choked out before she turned and ran.

Imogen's eyes opened in the place of the crystal statues. She sat up, her legs already tangled by vines trying to claim her for the meadow. She grabbed them with her right hand, pulling hard as they retreated from her form. She stood, running past the tree and along the stream. She couldn't see what was happening until she made her way up the slope to where the two worlds met. Instinctively she threw out both hands, though the right was the one her spell came from, hitting Tibor in the back and throwing him sideways.

"Imogen!" James shouted, running towards her.

"James! Don't!" she screamed, turning towards the spell aimed at him. Imogen wasn't fast enough as he was lifted into the air, his wand jerked from his hands. "James!" she shrieked.

Sabina walked out of the forest, steady and slow, catching James's wand in her left hand, the other pointed at him. "Should I drop him?" she asked Imogen.

Tibor slowly recovered. He threw a curse at Imogen, but it was Sabina who used James's wand to send it in another direction. "Not ze girl! Don't touch her, you idiot! You'll destroy us all!"

Imogen chanced a glance over to Harper and Hal. They both kneeled in front of Mihail and Juris. She looked back at James, still struggling against Sabina's spell. He was ten feet in the air. "Let him down," Imogen begged. "Please, don't hurt him."

"I do not vish to hurt any of zem," Sabina said in a reasonable tone. As if to prove it, she lowered James until his feet touched the ground. The moment he was freed from her spell, Tibor grabbed him, twisting his arms so Tibor had a tight hold.

"Get out of here, Imogen," James said, still fighting Tibor.

"Shut it," Tibor said, pulling on James's limbs until he groaned in pain.

"Stop!" Imogen said.

"You know I can make Tibor stop," Sabina said. She pulled the silver knife from her belt, levitating it and sending it right in front of Imogen. "Ve only need to finish vat ve started."

Imogen looked at the little silver blade just within her reach. She gritted her teeth and grabbed the handle with her right hand.

"No!" James shouted. "Don't!"

"All ve need is blood from your ozer hand, zen ve vill let you all go," Sabina said.

Harper shook her head and Hal looked straight ahead, a steely expression giving nothing away.

"You let the others go first," Imogen said, trying to sound strong and certain.

Sabina laughed. "You do not understand your position," she said. "Let me show you."

She pointed her wand at James and he writhed in Tibor's arm, screaming in pain. "No!" Imogen screamed. She switched the blade to her left hand and lifted her right to intervene. She paused the torture once or twice, but put down her hand unable to watch anymore, her eyes filled with tears. "Alright! You can have it," she said.

James slumped in Tibor's grasp as Sabina's curse ended. She smiled. With a flick of her wrist, the wooden bowl appeared beneath Imogen's hand. "Just one cut," Sabina said. "Zen zis is over."

Imogen touched the tip of the blade against the palm of her right hand. She looked at James. He was shaking his head back and forth. Imogen remembered something Sabina said that first night. James was her greatest weakness.

Would Sabina keep her promise? Would they be allowed free after this? And what about Gabe, or any others with gifts in the clan? Imogen knew she was dooming others to this same fate. She watched James. No matter what happened to her, James couldn't be hurt. Sabina's panic when Tibor tried to attack her rung in Imogen's mind. James was her greatest weakness, but he was also her greatest strength. For him, she would do anything.

Imogen turned the blade quickly, grabbing the handle with both hands.

"Stop her!" Sabina shouted.

Before anyone could move, Imogen pushed the knife into the right side of her abdomen, feeling one even, sharp pain with the motion, and another as she removed it, the short blade covered in her blood. Imogen heard a cacophony of screams as she dropped the blade, falling to her knees in the grass. Her magic flooded back into her, but it was too late.

* * *

"No!" James screamed as Imogen plunged the knife into herself.

A large rush of wind knocked him forward. He turned and watched the large man shudder as he became a large pillar of ash. To his left, the old woman, too, was transforming, the wind blowing both of them away until there was nothing left. James didn't look at the others, but scrambled to his feet, running to Imogen.

She fell forward, curled into a ball, holding her stomach on her knees in the grass. "No," he said. "No, no, no! Imogen!" He knelt beside her, grabbing a shoulder in each hand, he carefully turned her, pulling her into his arms, brushing hair from her face. Imogen was shaking, her hands clutching her side. Blood spilled from the wound, soaking her dress.

"James," she said, her voice broke at his name. Color drained from her face.

"Why did you do that?" he asked. Tears welled in his eyes. "Why?"

"I had to," Imogen said. James held helplessly as she grimaced, biting her bottom lip through a bout of pain. She let out a breath as it ended. "Tell Mum I'm sorry."

"You have to tell her yourself," James insisted. "And Lily and Al and Dad. You have to tell them. I'm just going to… I'll just…" He tried to think, but he'd never spent much time on healing spells. He suddenly felt that everything he did know was useless. What was the point of any of it if he couldn't save Imogen? He suddenly got what his dad had said about them learning patronus messaging. He wished he could send one now and summon his parents here.

James looked over as Harper fell onto her knees on Imogen's other side. She grabbed at the bottom of her skirt, ripping off a large chunk of the fabric, folding it up and replacing Imogen's hands with the compress and her own pressure. "Hal, I need more," she said, her voice shaking. "I think Imogen's bag was over by that tree." Hal followed her instructions.

"James, I'm sorry," Imogen said.

"No," he said, adjusting her, placing a hand on her cheek. "You can't give up on me! I won't allow it!"

Imogen grimaced and James held her closer. "Your school letter came," he said quickly as she relaxed. "You got all your O.W.L.s, just like I knew you would."

"Really?" her voice was weak. Hal ripped up pieces of Imogen's clothes, folding them and handing them to Harper.

"Yeah," he said, trying to sound casual. "Yeah... Only I'm not supposed to know, so act surprised when Mum shows you, right? And Lily and Lorcan are... are dating or something now."

Imogen took a moment to absorb this statement. "You're just saying that."

"No, really," James said. Anything to keep her attention. "I saw them cuddling on the couch today. Haven't I told you for ages now that he fancied her?" Imogen gave a weak smile as he grinned back. "It happened while they were doing research about you being a Gypsy. You have to stay and tell me all about that."

With some effort, Imogen lifted her right hand. Covered in blood, she reached it out, palm up, wiggling her fingers. James smiled through his tears, reaching out his own, hovering it above hers. He watched as the sparks not only flickered between their hands, but all around them as well. They were strong and real and theirs. He took it as a good sign looking back to Imogen's face. She looked at him and smiled gently before closing her eyes and falling limp in James's arms.

James felt his heart rip in two. He wondered how he had ever mistaken the morning in the barn as heartbreak, because this was far more destructive. Far more final. He pulled her into him, laying his face into her neck, hoping for a response that wouldn't come.

"James," Harper said.

Sobbing, he took a moment before he looked over to her. Hal's jaw was tense, kneeling behind his sister, but Harper looked more intent. Only she wasn't looking at James, exactly. He followed the direction of her stare, down to his hand, which was still covered in little golden sparks. Now that he saw them, he could feel them against his skin. It was as though he could feel them coming from his fingers.

Harper grabbed James's hand, placing it over the wound, pressing it down. The sparks made their way over Imogen's skin, sinking into the cut. James could feel what was happening, just how Imogen always said she felt. He sensed what he couldn't see, feeling flesh suture together beneath his hand. Harper closed her eyes and a purple glow encircled her own hands, forcing the golden sparks to increase their speed.

A few minutes seemed to drag before everything stopped. Harper turned to watch Imogen and James did the same.

Imogen took in one long, steady breath, her eyes opening and looking for James's. Harper fell forward, her forehead resting in relief on Imogen's stomach. James captured her lips in his carefully. He kept his face close to hers, their breath tangling, their noses touching. "All that other nonsense and I almost forgot to say I love you," he whispered.

"I love you too," she replied.


	13. Seventeenth

_**Seventeenth**_

Hal found his wand, then summoned the others. Harper busied herself cleaning the blood from Imogen's side, confirming that the wound had closed, though she'd been left with a wide, white scar. Imogen's side had a general soreness, but what took time for Imogen to combat was the weakness from the blood loss. She sat up slowly, James supporting her. Once she had, Imogen looked up to Hal, who stood worrying and helpless over the others. "You shouldn't have brought James," she said.

The tension in Hal's body broke at this as he rolled his eyes, glowering at her. "I can't win between you people. They yell at me for doing exactly what you ask me to do, you yell at me for following their orders... what about what I want? I should be in Scotland right now have a decent lie in."

Imogen smiled at him as James conjured a cup and water, making her drink. "Tomorrow, you have whatever lie in you want," she said.

"About time," Hal replied. "In a way, everyone here is alive because of me."

Harper shot him a look and he shut his mouth.

They had a long discussion about what was next. James told them about the search team and warned Hal that if he stuck around he may be part of a long interview. "They may not question you," James said. "And I'm sure you'd be cleared of any trouble, but if you don't want to be kept behind—"

"I don't," Hal said. "We'll head back to the clan. They need to know what happened."

Imogen would use the stone to summon Taylor and the others. Hal was pretty sure that if a Gypsy dropped it, it was as good as an invitation, which would allow them into this space. Imogen stood, James holding her upright. Harper made a call, compacting it into a ball the same as Hal had done earlier. "Please… come see us," she said, giving it to Imogen.

Imogen smiled at Harper and leaned in to hug her. Harper pulled away a few moments later, wiping away tears. "I'll come," Imogen promised. "Send me news, when you can."

Hal didn't step in for a hug or get weepy, though Imogen didn't expect him to. Instead he had his snarky smile, with his hands deep in his pockets. "Stay out of trouble, Snow White," he said, then turned to James. "Take care of my cousin, Prince Charming," he added, grabbing Harper's arm. With ease, Harper made another call that the two held onto, taking them away.

"Prince Charming?" James asked.

"It's some muggle thing he keeps going on about. I don't really understand," Imogen said.

"I kinda like it," he said, grinning down at her.

James steadied Imogen as she dropped the stone to the ground and they waited. Birds sang from the trees and the breeze moved the grass slowly. Taylor was the first to apparate. She stopped, eyes wide as Ginny appeared beside her.

Ginny covered her mouth, Xander and Harry coming next. Imogen waited for Ginny to start yelling, telling her how terrible she had been. She braced herself for it when Ginny ran forward, clutching onto Imogen, pulling her out of James's arms. Imogen closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around Ginny as well. "Oh, Imogen," Ginny said, crying as she ran her fingers through Imogen's hair. "My Imogen."

"Mum," Imogen choked out. Tears filled her eyes yet again as she gripped tightly. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shh," Ginny hushed her. "It's all okay now."

Harry shouted orders that Imogen hadn't bothered to pay attention to, then he also had joined their embrace and Imogen cried into Ginny's shoulder. Harry pulled back. "What are you doing here, James?" he asked.

Imogen looked over, still gripping Ginny, opening her mouth to answer. Taylor spoke before either her or James could. "That's your question?" she asked. "Nothing about the blood stain?"

There was certain amount of chaos after Ginny pulled away at Taylor's question. James and Imogen managed to clean their skin a decent amount in an attempt to lessen everyone's worry, but this didn't help as they had hoped. To top it off, without Ginny and Harry holding her up, Imogen nearly fainted. Several sets of arms eased her back to sitting. James sat right behind her. Xander suggested they transport Imogen back to his clinic for care, giving her a small vial of some potion. Harry agreed, ordering Broker and Carver to stay behind to pick up anything they might need for information (including the bloody silver knife in the grass) and the rest of them focused on Imogen, going back to Romania by portkey.

Just about everyone was relieved when Xander examined Imogen's side, confirming that the wound had been healed. Ginny wasn't deterred from fretting.

"How did this start closing?" Xander asked when he turned his attention to Imogen's hand. It was still clearly cut and red, but finally scabbing over where it had refused before.

"I don't know," Imogen said. "My cousin's cuts took months to heal."

"Huh," Xander said, adjusting his glasses and looking closer at her hand. "That's fascinating."

He put some more paste on it, though he didn't wrap the hand again, gave Imogen three different potions to drink, and left her with Harry, Ginny, and James in the room. "I think it's about time to start discussing what exactly happened today," Harry said.

Imogen had rarely seen him in this auror mode. He went from the calm and relaxed to authoritative and firm. She swallowed, wondering where to begin.

"Do we need to now, Harry?" Ginny asked, fiddling with the blankets around Imogen. James had taken Xander's place beside her. "Imogen should rest."

"Yes, we need to now," Harry said. "When Broker and Carver get back, we'll need information to—"

"Harry," Ginny said, a dangerous edge to her tone as she looked at him.

There was an awkward moment of tension before James cleared his throat. "Dad, how about I fill in what I can… outside."

Harry sighed and nodded, opening the door for James.

Ginny, satisfied, handed Imogen a glass of pumpkin juice, encouraging her to drink and picked up the stack of pictures from Imogen's satchel. Taylor had dug through the bag, trying to find any usable clothes. Since they'd all been torn by Hal and Harper, she ended up bringing Imogen some pajamas of her own, but everything else was laid out on the side table.

"Is this your father, then?" Ginny asked, sitting beside Imogen so she could see.

"Yes," she said. "That's my papa."

"He's handsome," Ginny said with a smile. "And… who's this?"

"That's his sister, Bianka," Imogen said.

"You have the same nose as them, I think. Straight, but turning up just there." Ginny reached over, smiling, and tapped the tip of Imogen's nose with her finger.

Ginny continued flipping through the pictures. Guilt built up in Imogen until she couldn't take it anymore. "I'm sorry I ruined the summer."

Ginny stopped. "You didn't ruin anything," she said, her eyes softening.

"I did," Imogen replied. "I… I didn't know how to tell you…"

"I know, love," Ginny said. She moved so she sat on the edge of the bed. She pushed Imogen's hair out of her face. "You shouldn't have been expected to. But let's stop talking fault. I'd rather hear about what you learned about your papa, okay?"

Imogen teared up, but nodded. Imogen told Ginny about Hal and Harper, about Gabe and the clan. She told her about the bicycle and Masek—everything that was good about the Gypsies. Everything worth going back for someday. When Harry and James eventually came back in, Harry narrowed his eyes, barely hiding a grin. "I thought she needed rest," he said.

Ginny shot him a glare and Imogen bit her bottom lip, trying not to smile.

* * *

Imogen was questioned on and off in between stretches of rest. Carver and Broker went back to the Ministry, Xander would pop in to check on Imogen, and Harry and Ginny were either in the room or taking care of little details. Their latest exit was to check on Lily and Albus, and let them know what was going on. James stayed with Imogen. They talked for over an hour before they fell asleep, hand in hand. Imogen lay on her side, curled towards him, and James sat in a chair by the bed, head resting on his arms.

"James," Ginny said, rubbing his back and waking him up. "James, you need to go eat."

He took a breath and sat up, his hand still in Imogen's. "I'm not hungry."

"Come on," Harry said. "There's a pub across the way. Mum and Lily are going to stay and you're going to get something to eat."

James looked towards the door. Lily stood just outside the door frame, looking quite unlike herself—quiet and meek—as she peeked in. When James looked back down at Imogen her eyes were open. The activity woke her up as well. Her hand tightened on his as she adjusted herself, trying to sit up. Ginny moved forward, adding a pillow behind her back. "Go on," Imogen said to James. "I'm not going anywhere."

He stood, leaning over and kissing Imogen. He followed his dad, Lily stepping into the room as they passed. They went through the main room, telling Xander they'd be back, and went across the way.

When the food arrived, James dug in, hardly pausing between bites before shoveling the next one.

"I thought you weren't hungry," Harry said with an amused grin.

James slowed down, taking sips at his mug to pace himself. He sat back and watched his dad for a minute. Harry looked tired. And James didn't remember when his hair had become equally grey as it was black. James wondered if his own hair would do that one day. James cleared his throat, setting down his cup. "I never realized what you went through when you were my age," James said.

Harry looked surprised at the comment, blinking a couple times. He leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"You always told us about the people who died in the war, but I never thought what that must have been like for you," James said. "Dad… Imogen almost died in my arms today." James choked back tears.

When he'd told his dad about what happened in the meadow, James had focused on very specific facts. He told Harry about the woman and three men. James explained how they'd used him to make Imogen comply. He mentioned how Imogen took the knife and ruined their plans and how it affected those that wanted to hurt Imogen. But James glossed over the moments where he thought he'd lost her. James still couldn't stop picturing her white, still face. Harry reached out and grabbed his forearm.

"But she didn't," he said. "Which makes today a good day."

James nodded. "I guess it was worth losing my shot at the academy for."

"Why would you have lost your shot at the academy?"

"I went against your orders again," James said. He hadn't hesitated to follow Hal, but he knew what that meant for him in terms of his hopes to be an auror.

"Yes, but you made the right choice," Harry replied.

James stopped mid-bite, swallowing a rather large chunk of roasted carrot whole. "But the other day—"

"The other day you should have at least tried to talk to me first," Harry said. "You didn't send an owl or come to the office, both of which were possible. If you hadn't acted this time, who knows what would have happened?"

"Well, then how can I know when the right time and the wrong time to go against orders is?"

"I'd love to tell you that there's an answer for that. That you'll figure some trick out to tell," Harry said. "Truth is, most the time you only know by the end."

* * *

Lily had been reluctant to get close, her eyes slightly puffy and pink. "Al wanted to come too," Ginny told Imogen. "I thought it was best not to have too many people here."

Lily asked a couple tentative questions, reaching out for Imogen's hand, but it wasn't until Ginny was called away by Taylor and Xander with a request that Lily became more herself. She crawled onto the bed with Imogen, pulling a rusted tin can from her bag. Imogen raised an eyebrow, but Lily just lifted a finger for her to wait.

"Lorcan?" Lily said.

There was nothing for a minute, then a voice. "Lily? Are you with Imogen yet?" Lorcan asked.

Imogen smiled wide as Lily turned the can towards her. "Lorcan!" she exclaimed.

"Hey," he said, the echo of his voice making Imogen happy. "How's your vacation been?"

Imogen had to laugh. They talked for a while, sticking to mundane topics, steering clear of knives and wounds and anything that she'd had to talk about throughout the day. "By the way, James said something about you two dating?" Imogen finally asked, giving a side glance to Lily.

"Er, yeah," Lorcan said. Lily was beaming at being outed. Imogen could imagine Lorcan shifting his weight from one foot to the other, or else squirming as he sat. "Yeah I, er, finally… er… talked to her."

"After hearing about it for the last two years I'd like a few more details than that," Imogen said.

Lily, grabbed onto Imogen's hand, turning the tin towards her. "Well, Lorcan came up with this excuse to get me over to his house for dinner. Then he snuck me into the barn. He hardly gave me a chance before he wrapped me up in his arms and started passionately kissing me," Lily said. She had the cartoonish expressions that she always had when exaggerating a story. Imogen smiled and the other end was silent for a while.

"Er, I better go. My mum is calling me," Lorcan said. "I'm glad you're alright, Imogen."

She took the tin back. "Thanks, Lorcan. I can't wait to see you."

"Me either. By Lil," he added.

Lily put the tin away and told Imogen the real story of how everything happened with her and Lorcan. "I know I said I was done dating, but… I don't know… And I know he's different from the usual guys I date, but—"

"But you're happy," Imogen said. She could tell. Lily nodded. "You may want to stop embarrassing him, though.

"But he's adorable when he blushes!" Lily's smile faded. "If I hadn't let you go—"

"I would have made you forget," Imogen said. "I'm sorry I put you in that position."

Lily linked her arm with Imogen's and rested her head on Imogen's shoulder. "Just don't leave again and I'll forgive you immediately."

"Okay," Imogen said.

"Also… I'm going to need your help figuring out the Patronus Charm."

* * *

 _Three weeks later_

Imogen's birthday had arrived and no one had said anything about it that morning. Imogen didn't bring it up either. After all the trouble she'd caused over the summer, she didn't feel she deserved any fuss. James would probably have something for her later, anyway, and that was enough.

Ginny and Imogen went to Diagon Alley alone, rushing through the shopping for everyone's school supplies since there hadn't been time until now. They'd leave for the train in three days. Ginny groaned as she looked at the lists. "James is going to have to wait for the herbology books, I think," Ginny said. "It's not like he can't pick them up once he's here."

James was waiting to hear about an internship with his Aunt Hermione at the Ministry. In the meantime, he would move in and work for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

In the few weeks since Imogen came home, she noticed the way he talked about his plans had drastically changed. First, there was less of a mantra in how one thing would lead to another and then another. James was much more focused on the plans for the next year. Once or twice when he did start down that path, James would stop talking abruptly, pause for a minute, then ask Imogen what she was thinking. If she had anything to say, she'd share. Otherwise, James would start on asking more questions, like what she thought she might want to do after school and about what the clan had been like.

Aside from a little alone time with James, Imogen spent a lot of time with the others learning the Patronus Charm. She was the first to do so, producing a patronus in the form of a lamb a few days in.

"How did you do that?" Albus asked, irritated.

Having her casting back, Imogen found herself able to use it with more ease than ever. Even with wizarding spells, she knew how to feel for it and expect it to happen. Of course she only felt guilty about getting the charm, especially since Albus was close to missing the Hobgoblins, all because of her. James managed a decent patronus a few days before—his was in the form of a panther—and finally, after hours spent working with Imogen the day before, Albus managed to do it as well. James laughed at the little silver frog, which subsequently hopped around James's face, making him stumble into the side table and fall with a crash. Tomorrow was the concert, which Albus no longer worried about getting to go.

Lily told Imogen she wanted her help during the school year so that she wouldn't miss out on anything over Christmas holidays. "Dad's being mental about this," Lily complained quietly. She didn't bother saying so in front of her parents.

Ginny and Imogen were heading towards Madam Malkins to get Albus a new set of robes.

"Mum, Lily asked if I could get her something from George's shop," Imogen said.

"Uh, maybe not today," Ginny said, scanning the lists. "I can always have George send it by owl."

As they ran their errands, Imogen noticed a rhythmic tapping occasionally on the tips of her fingers. She smiled. Ever since James had used her magic to heal her, she'd been able to feel such phantom movements. She hadn't noticed before then, but James had a nervous habit of rubbing his thumb along his pinky. Imogen's own pinky would itch when he did this. It didn't happen in reverse, but she'd had to talk to him about it, as it would happen at the most random times.

James came up with something else using this knowledge. When they were sitting apart, he would tap his thumb to his index finger, then the middle, and down the row. "Kind of a like a code," he said proudly.

"A code for what?"

"That I'm thinking of you," James said.

Of course Imogen knew James had hoped his ability to use her wandless magic may have stuck, but he said he was just as happy with this side effect.

They rushed up and down the streets of Diagon Alley until they were bogged down in bags when Ginny stopped them at _Miss Madeline's Ice Cream Shoppe_. They set everything down and Ginny brought them each back of cup of ice cream. She set down something else in front of Imogen, a long black jewelry box. Imogen had just grabbed her spoon and stopped, looking up at Ginny, who was smiling wide.

"Go ahead, open it," Ginny said.

Imogen pushed aside her ice cream and opened the box. Inside was a golden bracelet with a few little charms. Two, dangling at the end, had little jewels: one a ruby, the other a sapphire.

Ginny reached over, pulling out the bracelet and worked on placing it on Imogen's wrist. "The boys in the family all get watches on their seventeenth, but the girls get bracelets," she explained. "In the Weasley family ours have always included a ruby charm, but I figure that's in part because we're generally in Gryffindor. I thought you should have your house on there too."

"It's beautiful," Imogen said, looking at the few other charms dangling from it. There was a koala, for Australia, a golden cauldron, and a plain golden circle."

"That one's neat," Ginny said, seeing her look at it. She held Imogen's wrist again, running her thumb over the coin-like charm. An image she recognized of her father appeared on one side and Imogen smiled. She turned it around and there was a second image. It was of a young girl with bright blond hair and an excited smile. Imogen tilted her head. The girl looked like her. Imogen looked up at Ginny. "Al will want to give you all the details, but I couldn't wait."

Imogen pulled it closer to her eyes. The girl in the picture was fiddling with her hair, the same way Imogen always did. She couldn't have been older than five. "You found her?"

"Yes," Ginny said. "It's not… a happy story, I'm afraid. Her parents died in a portkey accident when she was seven and she ended up in the muggle orphanage with no other family to speak of. We may be able to find more, now that we have a name—"

"What is it?" Imogen interrupted.

"Meara," Ginny replied with a smile. "Meara Durant."

Imogen felt tears sting her eyes as she flipped back and forth between her parents' images. "Thank you," she said.

Ginny squeezed her hand.

"I never told you why I didn't call you mum before," Imogen said, looking up. She didn't know why, but this seemed the right time for it. Ginny didn't say anything, but looked intently at Imogen. "I think... I think I felt like I was forgetting my mum if I called you the same thing I called her. And I already couldn't remember so much about her. But, something I realized after everything... I don't have to choose one or the other. Because you are my mum also."

Ginny looked down, blinking out a few tears as she gave Imogen another squeeze. "We should probably eat the ice cream before it melts."

When they'd finished, Imogen and Ginny made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron. When Imogen veered towards the fireplace to take the floo, Ginny stopped her. "No, we're taking the Knight Bus this time," she said.

Imogen had no idea why they would do this. It took longer and cost more, but she didn't argue as Ginny called for the bus and they got on, weighed down with everything from their morning shopping. They were dropped off in the front of the house and Ginny dropped a couple things by the door. "Where did I put my key?" she said rather loudly. She dug it out of her pocket and opened the door. "Go in, dear, I'll grab all this."

Imogen made her way inside.

"Surprise!" voices rang in loud unison from the living room and Imogen froze. There were nearly twenty people there to greet her. They all laughed and cheered as Imogen tried to adjust what was in her hands. James stepped up, kissing her cheek and grabbing some bags from her.

"You didn't think we'd forget your birthday, did you?" he asked.

She made her way around the room, hugging those who came. Not all the Weasleys were there, but George, Ron, and Bill's families all came. Fleur pulled her into a tight hug, giving her a kiss on each cheek, and fiddled with her short hair, calling her _ma bichette_. Imogen looked back at Ginny, realizing why she gave her the bracelet early, not wanting the moment to be overshadowed. Lily stood by Lorcan and Lysander, whose parents were there as well.

As she finished greeting everyone, George's daughter, Roxanne, pointed to the pile of presents on the coffee table. "You going to open those?" she asked.

"She's gotten really into opening presents," Angelina laughed.

"This one's from us," Roxanne said, pointing to a box wrapped in Wheezes paper wrap.

Imogen went to grab it, to appease the overexcited Roxanne, but Lily stepped forward. "No! You have to open James's in the garden first! He got you a—"

James grabbed his sister, clamping his hand over her mouth. Imogen looked at them, confused. Why James's gift would be in the garden didn't make sense. She went out, others following closely behind. The first thing she noticed was a long table, decorated and filled with food and a large cake, covered in blue frosting. Imogen looked to the right, covering her mouth.

The bicycle, with a large gold bow on the handle, was beautiful compared to the rusty one the clan owned. It was brown with little blue flowers painted onto it. The parts that weren't painted were a shiny silver and the seat was wide and whole. "Oh, James," Imogen exclaimed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, standing behind her. "I had Dad go with me to the muggle town and pick it out," he said. "Like it?"

Imogen had told him at some point in the last few weeks about the bicycle. She never imagined he'd go out and buy her one of her own. "I love it," she breathed out.

"Show us how to use it!" Lily said.

Imogen ran over, getting on the bike and riding it through the grass. She let little Fred up onto the handlebar for a ride, then Roxanne. She tried it with Lily, though it got precarious at that point. Hermione took a turn, at the insistence of her children who wanted to see her "do something Muggle," though none of the other adults seemed inclined to try.

The party became relaxed, everyone gathering around the food with Roxanne occasionally bringing out gifts for Imogen to open. About halfway through she brought a familiar box tied with twine.

 _Thought you'd like to have these back_ , the note said. Imogen knew what it was, but looked through nonetheless. It was the rest of the photographs she had to leave behind early the morning her and her cousins left the clan. Fleur and Ginny stood right behind Imogen as she showed them.

"The owl that brought that is with Peregrine," Ginny added. Imogen knew she'd have to take some time to write to Hal and Harper. Perhaps they'd lifted Sabina's ban on owl communication.

Lily leaned on Lorcan as they sat beside each other. Lorcan was slowly becoming less tense, putting an arm around Lily. Imogen noticed a glance from Harry once or twice, first between the two of them and then over to Ginny as though to ask her what exactly was going on. Imogen was happy to see that Lorcan didn't notice these silent exchanges.

"I want James to give me a ride," Roxanne insisted.

"Yeah… Yeah I can ride that. How hard could it be," James said, hopping up from the table. "Let me try it first."

It was immediately apparent that James could not quite ride the bicycle. Imogen discreetly reached out her hand to steady him, keeping James upright as he rode in circles. It almost made him worse, as James didn't pedal in a steady fashion. Still, he continued and set his feet down onto the grass to stop.

"Me first!" Roxanne shouted, running into James's arms to be placed on the handlebar. George was about to protest when Angelina nudged him and nodded over to Imogen.

She continued to keep all riders safe as Roxanne and Fred both took turns, James smiling wide as he'd take sharp corners that kept Imogen on her toes to avoid him crashing. "This is easier than riding a broom!" James exclaimed.

When Fred jumped off after the third round of turns, James looked at Imogen. "Now you, Imogen," he declared.

"Uh…"

"Come on," James said. "I've got this."

"No she's got this," Lysander replied. James looked at him, brow knit. "She's been keeping you from killing everyone with her magic, you dolt."

Almost everyone at the table, who had caught on well before, burst out laughing. James looked dumbfounded, then narrowed his eyes at Imogen. She squealed, jumping up from the table and took off running. James struggled to get off the bicycle, causing another round of laughter and gave Imogen a head start.

Imogen rounded a second corner when James pointed his wand at her and she was pulled straight back. She flew into his arms and James turned her, pinning her against the house's wall. "That was sneaky," he said, grinning down at her.

Imogen smiled back. "Well then next time I'll just let you break your neck," she said.

"As well you should." James snaked his fingers in Imogen's hair and kissed her deeply. She closed her eyes, placing her hands on his chest. He pulled his lips back, keeping his face close. Imogen opened her eyes. His smile had faded into somber concern. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too."

"Do you think… would you be alright with me meeting you in Hogsmeade on one or two of your weekends there?"

"Of course," she said. James talked all the time the past year about how he would do this. He'd never bothered asking her permission.

"But you'll tell me if you don't want that right?" James asked. Imogen looked up at him, confused. "I just… I know I'm not the only important thing in your life and—"

Imogen cut him off, reaching her lips up to his, stopping him with a kiss. "You will always be the most important."

James gave a half grin, tightening his grip on her as they stood there quietly for a few moments.

"Ja-a-a-ames? Imoge-e-e-e-n?" Roxanne called, her voice getting closer.

"Time for cake I think," James said. His mischievous smile returned and before Imogen knew it, she'd been flung over his shoulder kicking and laughing as she was carried back to the party.

* * *

 **A/N:** I know this feels pretty ending-esque, but keep an eye out for one more installment! Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far and if you haven't yet, I'd love to hear from you!


	14. Gypsy Woman

_**Gypsy Woman**_

"That is _not_ the same as a portkey," James said as he and Imogen landed in the forest just outside the colony.

Imogen smiled at him as he leaned some of his weight on her. "I never said it was like a portkey. I believe that's how you've been describing it all these years."

"Well I've only traveled by call once and I was in a bit of distress. I didn't remember how… bloody… dizzying it gets."

Imogen wasn't sure if she was just used to it, or if her abilities as a caster counteracted the effects of the call, but she had never thought of it as dizzying. "Want me to carry your bag or broom?"

"No," James said. "No, I got it."

"Imogen!" Harper said, walking forward through the trees. The two embraced and Imogen pulled Harper back to get a proper look at her pregnant belly, large and rounded out.

"Oh, Harper!" Imogen said, placing her hand on Harper's stomach. "Are you really only six months along?"

Harper nodded, looking exhausted. "It really can't be over soon enough," she said.

"Do you know if it's a boy or girl yet?"

"They decided they didn't want to find out ahead of time," Hal said, appearing out of the trees, hands in his pockets. "How's life, Snow White?" he asked, coming up and kissing her cheek.

"It's pretty good, actually," Imogen said. "You remember James, of course."

"How could I forget?"

Imogen finished at Hogwarts and moved into a flat with James, who had just completed his first year at the academy. She worked for several years at Flourish and Blotts part time, though her main focus was in bringing unity back to the Gypsy community. James continually insisted he could cover the finances so she didn't have to stretch herself, but Imogen wanted to contribute and her personal work didn't actually provide an income.

The work consisted of training young Gypsies with gifts as well as spreading lost knowledge of how these gifts could be shared. Her and Harper worked for three years, traveling around to find children that they could provide with their gifts and this was becoming more widely known. Then Harper went and got married to a man they met from another clan. Others had joined the efforts and Harper moved back home with her husband to settle down.

"How long are you staying again?" Harper asked.

"A few weeks," Imogen said. "There's a wedding in Australia and we're meeting our parents there at the end of the month. Then if it's needed we can be back for a while longer."

"Nothing to rush back to then?"

"I just graduated from the academy, so we have a little time before real life begins," James answered.

"Is that why you finally popped the question?" Hal asked.

"No," Imogen said, rolling her eyes at him. Hal had become the leader of the clan. Imogen had brought others to visit through the years. Lily, once, and even Lorcan had been able to come several times as part of his research to repair misconceptions about the Gypsy community among wizards. But Hal kept saying James wasn't allowed. Harper insisted he held a grudge over some punch thrown when they first met. He made their engagement a condition of James being allowed to visit the clan. "It was just a good time for it."

James grabbed her hand, looking unsure. "Thanks for letting me come," he said to Hal. He'd been indignant for years over this, but apparently he'd realized he needed to stay on Hal's good side if he were to be allowed back in the future.

"Yes, well, we'll see if I end up regretting it," Hal said. "Like that time I let that sandy haired idiot in."

Harper sighed. "That's my husband you're talking about."

"Yes, I know," Hal said. "Come on, everyone's been waiting for you."

As they came into range of the caravan, several members of the clan gathered around them, coming to hug Imogen, kissing her cheeks. The children gathered around James, the ones who could speak some broken English were asking about what his broom was. Imogen had told him they didn't know about brooms or Quidditch. Feeling this was a necessity, he brought his broom along to show them. He was smiling as different children hung off his arms, pulling him down to their level.

"That's sweet," Harper said, watching James.

"They like new people," Hal commented. "They'll get over it."

Imogen shook her head at him. Hal would never change, but he really had been good for the clan. He opened the community to working with clans elsewhere and dispelled Sabina's fear mongering of wizards. It was his efforts, really, that opened the door for Imogen and Harper's work.

A girl Imogen didn't know well—around eighteen with pretty brown hair that waved most of the way down her back—brought a couple plates over to them. She paused when she handed one of them to Hal, looking down shyly. He smiled and was less irritable as he thanked her, watching as she weaved through the crowd and others came forward with food for James. Harper's husband, Grantham, brought her a plate as well, leading her to sit.

"Who was that?" Imogen asked.

Hal's cleared his throat, a stupid grin disappearing from his face. "June," he said. "Her and her parents joined the clan about a year ago."

Imogen raised an eyebrow to Harper whose lips were pressed together to keep from smiling.

"Well she seems lovely," Imogen said.

They sat around the fire, Harper mostly asking questions as Imogen and James caught them up on what was happening.

Lorcan had just started with the Department of Mysteries full time and Lily was finishing her third year with the Holyhead Harpies. The sports reporters used to throw around the question of whether she'd live up to her mother's reputation, now they were all abuzz about whether she'd outlast the length of Ginny's career on the field.

"But they're still together?" Harper asked.

"They keep saying it's complicated," James replied, rolling his eyes.

"Lily wants them both to concentrate on their careers right now," Imogen clarified. "But honestly, they still spend their time off with each other and they don't date anyone else. My best guess, they'll show up to some family event and announce that they eloped the weekend before."

Harper smiled at this. James scowled. Imogen shrugged.

"And you two don't want to just do that? Elope?" Hal asked.

"I'm pretty sure my mum would kill us if we tried," James said. "Then she'd reanimate our corpses to stand in the reception line."

Imogen had been the one to be slow on an official engagement. By the time she graduated there was a general understanding that a wedding was in their future, but she didn't see a point in being engaged until they both had the time and energy to put towards the actual planning. By then, James had learned to not press on such matters, though he did ask her thoughts on it every few months in case she'd changed her mind.

James had finished at the top of his class and had been prepared to accept a job with the ministry when he was approached by the International Federation of Wizards to be part of a specialized team of aurors to work jobs around the world. James had discussed the matter at length with his parents, and Imogen was interviewed just as thoroughly as James, since the position involved a great deal of undercover infiltration. They often hired based on whether the spouse of the candidate could be integrated into the cover. Of course they couldn't tell anyone else about this, but it did give the final shove on getting engaged and they were planning the wedding for that December. If James did get the position—which seemed more than likely—they would be assigned somewhere just after the new year.

This also motivated Imogen to make some plans for time with the clan. She watched Gabe, dancing in the crowds. She was twelve and had turned into a lovely young woman. She had a boyish figure, with dark, wavy hair that flowed down to her waist. "Do you think she's ready?" Imogen asked Hal.

"Absolutely," he said. "If you get her started I think we can go from there."

Imogen nodded. "We'll start in the morning."

They enjoyed the rest of the evening, dancing and singing. At some point someone insisted James sing for them, then several of the men asked him to sit down after he started. He turned red as they laughed, but Imogen distracted them from their teasing by starting a song of her own, and soon the clan joined.

The next morning there was still excitement in the air. Imogen and James went into the large field, where the bicycle was ignored as James showed off flying. Imogen noticed that when he was riding with a boy he'd do all sorts of tricks and flips, riding high and fast. With the girls he was more tender, carefully giving them time to adjust and holding tighter when he did make a more thrilling moves. She watched for an hour, until Gabe came out to the field, looking nervous.

"Hello, Gabe," Imogen said, pushing her hair back.

Gabe was usually so excited to see her. Of course, Imogen had never come to see just her, and never had Gabe had to perform her magic for a specific purpose. She gave a nervous smile, but didn't say anything.

"Let's go to the gardens," Imogen said.

She lead the way. Over the years, the forest that had once looked so monotonous to Imogen had come to have a variety of trees, each with their own personality. She could navigate the general area quite well, by now, and when they arrived at the patches of tilled soil, Imogen sat Gabe down on one large rock, sitting across from her. "Before we start, I want to know what you understand about the story of the gifts," she explained. She leaned forward, smiling gently at Gabe, taking her hands in her own and waited.

Gabe took a deep breath, thinking. "Zair vas once a mozer who had two daughters," Gabe said. She repeated the story, much as Hal had once told it to Imogen. The one became a caster, the other a caller. She described how the girls used these gifts. "And zair mozer required tribute from zem and zair children and zair children's children."

Gabe's eyes looked down at Imogen's left hand. The clan knew what had happened. Many had known for years that Sabina was taking the magic of those with gifts. She had convinced them this provided protection and that it was owed by those with gifts. Imogen turned over hand so it was palm up, making the fact of the raised, diagonal scar less secretive. Gabe traced it with her finger. "Vill zis happen to me?"

"No," Imogen said firmly. "There was a part of the story that was twisted over the decades and centuries, Gabe. We forgot a key part of what it all meant. The tribute—the one the story claims is owed to the mother—was a tribute to be passed down. The sisters were not to give their magic back, but to give it forward, to the children."

"Zen vhy do all Gypsies not have gifts?" Gabe said.

Imogen smiled at the question. "Not all have the heart for it," she answered, reaching out and placing a hand over Gabe's heart. "The more good you do with your gift, the stronger it will become. Do you understand?"

Gabe took a moment, thinking about this before she nodded.

"Good," Imogen said. "Then let's begin."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you to everyone who has read all the way through! I hope you enjoy this little epilogue chapter and I would love to hear your thoughts of the story overall, so if you haven't yet, shoot me a review :)

Also, if I'm perfectly honest with myself, I am still loving these characters and another story has started to breed somewhere in the back of my mind. If it does come to fruition, I will do what I did with the last story: add a preview as another chapter here and so anyone interested can jump onto that one. Again, thanks all! Hope you enjoyed!


	15. Preview-The Empty Crib

A/N: Here is the preview for the continuing story! I really couldn't help myself and wanted to keep writing for James/Imogen and Lily/Lorcan. Below is just a portion of the first chapter of the story posted (you can find it on my profile page!) Feel free to follow along with that, or the other story I started that's H/G :)

 _ **The Empty Crib—Preview**_

Imogen wrung out a piece of cloth soaked in the milky white potion. James pressed his hand onto the top of the table, twisting his arm so the cut that ran from the middle of his bicep and down the side of his torso could be seen easily. Imogen laid the bit of cloth across the portion by his ribs and James sucked in air, growling as it stung. She paused looking down at him. "You should have let me take care of it," she said, her voice tight.

James knew she was right. His supervisor had already chewed him out over it as well. One of the reasons he'd been hired for the international task force was because of Imogen. His superiors had made that very clear. Part of their job was to integrate themselves into the lives of those they were investigating—something that was made easier with a wife and a seemingly mundane life. Moreover, Imogen's ability to perform magic without a wand allowed her to do things no one else could.

James was the real problem. When he was on assignment on his own, he was fine. When Imogen was there, he had a hard time concentrating. His worst fears cycled through his mind every moment. And even though he knew it wasn't always the right choice, he'd stand in front of her and risk his own life before seeing even a scratch on Imogen. Today he'd ignored everything else, the only thought was to get next to her. To make sure she wasn't targeted. And yet he knew she'd had better control over the situation than he did. "I'm sorry," James said after she adjusted another strip of fabric over the cut.

"Just don't do it again," Imogen said. She turned to get another strip and James reached out, grabbing her hand, pulling her into him. She leaned down, wrapping her hands around his neck, kissing him carefully. She straddled his lap, sitting as he reached up and brushed her white blond hair back. "I… I've been meaning to tell you something. I keep waiting for a good time, but there's never a good time."

James hummed in response, kissing her collarbone, making a trail along her skin, following the neckline of her camisole.

"James… I'm pregnant," Imogen said.

James stopped, pulling back and looking at her. She smiled widely as his heart pounded and a million feelings bubbled up inside of him. "And you still went today," he said, the earlier fear mixing with anger taking over anything else.

Imogen placed a hand on each side of his face. "Please, don't go back to that," she said. "You know I wouldn't have been anywhere near there if there was any danger suspected."

"You should have left. As soon as that started—"

"Okay, so you get to be protective of me and be sliced open when I have it perfectly under control, but when curses start flying at you I'm not allowed any weakness of that sort?"

They looked at each other and James's jaw tensed as he swallowed. "You're right," he said, a smile finally taking over at the thought of a baby. Their baby. James pulled her down into another kiss. "Okay… okay, so… what's next?"

Imogen laughed as James pulled her closer to him. She turned, summoning the bowl and continuing to coat the cut on James while sitting straddled on his lap, his free hand moving up and down her thigh. "Well, let's see," Imogen said. "The baby grows, I eat strange things… I get ridiculously fat, but you insist I haven't—"

"That's not what I mean," James said. "Gen, we can't keep doing this with a baby. I'll talk to my dad. I'll bet there somewhere for me in the Auror Department."

"Not unless you're going to be happy there," Imogen said seriously.

"Of course I'll be—"

"James, you love this job," Imogen said. "Don't act like you don't."

He took in a deep breath. She'd just covered the last of the cut. He thought about this. Yes, he loved what he did. He loved being part of something important, but he could do that back home too. Besides, if today was any indication, he needed to find a position that didn't put Imogen at risk. The thought of their baby at risk as well as her… James wouldn't be able to sleep ever again.

He couldn't help but remember nearly two months ago and an assignment in Scotland. James and his team were investigating reports of dark magic, assisted by a husband and wife not much older than him. They tried to convince the wife to go spend time with her sister in France, but she refused to leave her husband. In the end, they were held and she died from excessive use of the Cruciatus Curse before they could get through the defenses. He'd evaluated a lot after the incident—Imogen's involvement on the top of that list, but also the need to appreciate what was in front of him.

"I do," he said. James moved his hands to the sides of the camisole folding up the fabric until her stomach was exposed. A prominent scar on her right side was the only thing that marred her perfect skin. He leaned down kissing her belly. He lifted his eyes up to her. "But I love you more."

Imogen beamed as they spoke over other things, other plans. They talked about when they would tell everyone else and where they could live and whether they thought they might have a boy or girl.

"When can you tell?" James asked.

"I looked it up, and it's not for a few months," she said.

He pressed a hand on her stomach and she covered his hand with her own. "I don't think I've ever been more happy," he whispered.

Imogen leaned down, catching his lips again.

* * *

Imogen had rounded out at seven months, breathing heavy as she opened a box.

"I've got that," Lily said, pulling the box from her. "It's why I'm here. You just tell me where things go."

Imogen let out a frustrated sigh. James kissed the top of her head as he passed with other boxes to take to the living room. "I think we're putting the pots in the bottom cupboard," Imogen said and Lily unloaded the box, following directions.

Lily finished the Quidditch season two weeks before and had been planning for a while to help James and Imogen move into their new home in London and stay with them until after her nephew was born. James and Imogen were kind enough to pretend that this was a great favor, though they all knew the favor was on behalf of Lily.

After six seasons as seeker for The Holyhead Harpies Lily was at a completely loss for what to do with her life. She had three months to decide whether or not she'd go on for a seventh season, but unless she wanted to Captain the team (which she did not), she would just be in the same position next year. She'd toyed with the idea of being a correspondent like her mum, but in truth she hated writing, even when it was about Quidditch. Even worse was the prospect of another two to three years of people questioning whether she was right for the job or if she received it because of who her mother was. No, that was an experience she never wished to repeat again. Then there was everything to figure out about Lorcan… something she didn't want to even begin to think about. She had enough savings to last a while, especially since Imogen and James refused to take any rent.

"Er, there's a random…" Lily pulled up a silky and slinky piece of green lingerie, raising an eyebrow.

Imogen snatched it from her. "Not that it will ever fit again," she said, pushing herself up from the ground awkwardly.

"I'm just hoping it's not an indication of whether or not I can trust the sanitation of your cooking."

"You're safe for a while," Imogen retorted. She walked back towards the master bedroom as Lily stood with a stack of plates to put in the kitchen.

They continued to unpack for the next several hours, getting through a good portion of the kitchen boxes. Imogen, despite her insistence that she was perfectly capable of doing more than Lily and James were letting her, sank into the couch saying she just needed a couple minutes. James sat so she had her legs draped onto him. He massaged her swollen feet and within ten minutes she was asleep.

"Merlin, it took long enough to get her to do that," James said, carefully standing and adjusting Imogen, covering her with a throw blanket.

"Why doesn't she use her magic to unpack?" Lily asked.

"The longer the pregnancy goes on, the more using her casting exhausts her. And… she keeps misplacing her wand. Can I make you something for lunch, Lil?"

"That's okay," Lily said. "I told Aunt Lina and Uncle George I'd come see them. I can grab something at the Leaky Cauldron."

"Alright," James said, grabbing an apple. "I have to go in for a briefing this afternoon, so it will just be you and Imogen."

"You know I probably can't keep her from overworking all on my own right?" Lily said.

"She'll be fine," James said. "Just as long as we can mostly keep her from the major work."

Lily worked through another box, sorting through the things that were more obvious before heading out and to Diagon Alley. She apparated to the main road and spent a nice long visit with her aunt and uncle. They took her out to a different restaurant for lunch and she excused herself after an hour there. "I need to make a run to Quidditch Quality Supply, and hopefully get back before Imogen over does herself," Lily said.

"Well don't be a stranger," Angelina said, hugging Lily, then giving her a kiss on the cheek. "It's nice to have you so close again."

Lily smiled and hugged her uncle, then made her way through the streets. She made it to the shop, grabbing a broom servicing kit and a practice snitch that had gotten good reviews and wanted to try for herself.

"Think you'll be selected for the World Cup again next year?" Gromel, the owner of the shop and a familiar face, asked innocently.

Lily was used to chatting up predictions and thoughts with Gromel. She just wasn't much in the mood for thinking of the future anymore. "There's some pretty great new blood," she replied diplomatically.

"I don't know," Gromel said. "England's always done well when they had you."

Lily tried to give him a smile. "Well, we'll see."

She grabbed the bag and thanked Gromel again, grabbing a bulletin calling for the creation of local community Quidditch teams. Someone about to come in opened the door for her. "Thanks," she said.

"Lily?"

She looked up and stopped in her tracks. There, grinning at her, was Lorcan Scamander. "Oh, hi," she said. Her heart pounded. She hadn't seen him in almost a year. Not since the last time she told him she didn't want to hold him back from dating other women, if he wanted.

Lily had been saying that for years. The first year after her graduation, when she was put on reserve for the Harpies, they carried on a long distant relationship. They'd done that when she was at Hogwarts her last year, so it wasn't much of a stretch. Then Lorcan was busy with all sorts of research, working part time as an assistant for the Department of Mysteries. He'd also started an informal project, researching Gypsy clans and trying to correct misconceptions Wizards had about them. It was an effort that was probably still ongoing, but Lorcan was made for such work. He was trustworthy and patient and won over almost every Gypsy clan that let him even talk with them. Last Lily knew he was working on a book, sorting through what he could and couldn't share with the Wizarding World. A lesser man would have used whatever he'd learned for how it would benefit him. Not Lorcan. It's why they all trusted him. He would never divulge their closely held secrets to the world.

Still, with Lorcan engrossed in his studies and Lily trying to prove herself on the field, they spent several years on and off. She'd all but move in with him during off seasons, but during the year Lily insisted over and over that it wasn't fair to either of them to hold out when they saw each other so little. Lorcan would visit when he could, coming to see her play, which almost always ended in a night at her flat with little talking and no sleep.

Then last year, she started on the same idea. He needed to feel free to see other people. It wasn't fair to him, when Lily had no idea when she would be done and they lived too far apart for any of this to make sense.

"It doesn't have to make sense," Lorcan told her, obviously frustrated with the conversation. "I love you and I want to be with you."


End file.
